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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24918298">Wherefore Art Thou</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/basiltonjeans/pseuds/basiltonjeans'>basiltonjeans</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - School, Enemies to Lovers, First Love, Flirting, Gay Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, POV Simon Snow, Rivalry, School Play, Sexual Tension, Teen Angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:47:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>42,845</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24918298</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/basiltonjeans/pseuds/basiltonjeans</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>At Watford Sixth Form, Baz Pitch is the King of Drama. He gets all the main roles, achieves the best grades and owns the stage. And Simon doesn't care if the guy that despises him spends all of his time playing a part. </p>
<p>And then Watford puts on a production of a modern, gay 'Romeo &amp; Juliet'. </p>
<p>or; Simon gets roped into being an understudy in the school's winter play, and Baz is not happy about it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dev &amp; Niall &amp; Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Penelope Bunce &amp; Simon Snow, Penelope Bunce &amp; Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch &amp; Simon Snow, Penelope Bunce/Shepard, Simon Snow &amp; Agatha Wellbelove, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch &amp; Agatha Wellbelove, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>176</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Understudy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm so excited for this story. Here's the first part :) </p>
<p>Some notes I wanted to make on this: </p>
<p>- for the purpose of the story, I had to adapt the original Romeo &amp; Juliet quite a bit, such as changing Juliet's name (I wanted to do 'Romeo &amp; Julien' but apparently that's a porno?????? who knew????). </p>
<p>- I think it's important for me to say I didn't take drama when I was in sixth form, and when I did take it, I hated it. So I won't know everything, but my drama-obsessed friend is helping me fill in the gaps. </p>
<p>- this is going to be based in an English school system. So Simon and Baz are at the beginning of year 13, meaning they're currently 17. They all take 3 subjects at sixth form and will be going to Uni at the end of year 13 (though university doesn't really factor into the story at all).</p>
<p>- chapters later on might be rated 'mature'.  </p>
<p>I hope you don't hate what I've written! I'll be updating with the next part as soon as possible. xx</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s a morning in early October when we stumble upon the notice. It’s hanging up in the sixth form hallway, pinned to the a-level Drama board. I wouldn’t have even clocked it if it wasn’t for Penny, who seemed to more or less gravitate right towards it. <br/>
 <br/>
Penny’s always loved theatre, or anything drama-related. I joined her primary school when I was nine years old and, when all hope of making friends felt lost, Penny asked me to go to the theatre with her and her family. After that, we were inseparable. <br/>
 <br/>
In the first few years of secondary school, when taking Drama was compulsory, I used to hide in the back of the class and pray I wouldn’t get chosen to do anything. Penny, on the other hand, loved every moment. She would stand at the front, grinning, volunteering for anything. <br/>
 <br/>
Therefore, it wasn’t a surprise when she took Drama at sixth form. It meant Penny was in a class with some of the most melodramatic and showy people in our year. I, on the other hand, would do anything to stop that class: I instead took biology, psychology and English lit – ‘a strange combination’, the sixth form administrator said, but I like them all. Biology is the only class I share with Penny, so we use our lunchtimes and free periods catching up. <br/>
 <br/>
Well, we don’t anymore. Because Penny found the notice on the Drama board and now, we spend our lunchtimes reading scripts. <br/>
 <br/>
“Oh my god,” Penny had practically squealed when she saw it, placing her hands flat on the board, either side of the notice. “The new play.” <br/>
 <br/>
“What is it?” I’d asked, moving out of the way of other students. <br/>
 <br/>
‘<strong><em>ROMEO &amp; JOSEPH</em></strong>’, the notice read in big cursive writing. <br/>
 <br/>
“It’s a modern Romeo &amp; Juliet,” Penny said, grinning. “I’ve been waiting for this all year.” <br/>
 <br/>
In last year’s Winter play, they did ‘Mamma Mia!’ <br/>
 <br/>
Penny’s not a huge musical fan, and she can’t dance. Yet, they still gave her the part of a background dancer. She says it was the most humiliating thing she’s ever done. I’d bet she’ll do anything to get a proper part this time. <br/>
 <br/>
So, she took out two copies of the audition lines and handed one to me. <br/>
 <br/>
That’s how we got here. Rehearsing lines every lunchtime leading up to the auditions. Penny tries to learn the lines for the part of ‘Paris’, who has been adapted into a female character for the purposes of the storyline. <br/>
 <br/>
On Friday, three days away from auditions, Penny and I are going through her lines in the sixth form block. There’s one specific line where she keeps getting the words in the wrong order, and every time I tell her so, she slams her hand on the table in frustration. <br/>
 <br/>
My own acting abilities are abysmal, which Penny feels the need to point out every time we read through her lines. But she’s right. I despise the idea of being on stage in front of an audience. And I’m too fed up to pretend to be anybody but myself. <br/>
 <br/>
“Almost,” I tell Penny when she finishes the same line for the fifth time. “But you need to say ‘Capulet’ at the beginning of the sentence, not the end.” <br/>
 <br/>
“Penelope!” A voice calls from the open door on the other side of the room. I know that voice. Any sane person knows that voice. <br/>
 <br/>
Agatha Wellbelove is the most beautiful girl in school. She’s a dream come to life. Every guy (and a lot of girls) has had a crush on Agatha at some stage. It’s near impossible not to.<br/>
 <br/>
My stage occurred for a couple of years during secondary school. Agatha was in my year 8 tech class, but her woodwork skills were limited. I was too nervous to ask if she wanted help but it didn’t matter, because Agatha approached me. For three months, Agatha sat beside me, playing with her hair and batting her eyelashes. And I’m a human, so naturally I believed I had fallen in love with her. <br/>
 <br/>
The crush lasted two more years after that.<br/>
 <br/>
It’s probably good I don’t still fancy Agatha. She has Drama class with Penny now, so she’s regularly hanging around and asking about homework. It’s a lot easier to be around somebody when you’re not thinking constantly about kissing them. <br/>
 <br/>
Saying Agatha just ‘has’ drama class is a bit of an understatement. Agatha, along with her three companions, make up the thespian<em> royalty</em> at this school. <br/>
 <br/>
“Is that a script for the new play I see?” Agatha asks now, running her hand along the wall as she makes her way across the room to us. <br/>
 <br/>
Penny hugs the papers to her chest, suddenly looking very self-conscious. She says in a shy voice, “Yes.” <br/>
 <br/>
Agatha rubs her lips together, “Which part?” <br/>
 <br/>
“I’ve got the script for Paris. But I just want a main part. I don’t mind who.” <br/>
 <br/>
“Oh,” Agatha smiles then. It’s a dangerously beautiful smile. I think honestly, if Agatha had ever given me the chance, I would’ve been a terrible boyfriend; she’s terrifying, and clever, and cunning. I’m no match for her. She says, “I’m also auditioning for Paris.” <br/>
 <br/>
“I hope your audition goes well,” Penny says sincerely. <br/>
 <br/>
“I hope yours does too!” Agatha looks like she genuinely means it. <br/>
 <br/>
Agatha is scary, and she is dangerous and intelligent. But she is not a bad person. <br/>
 <br/>
Her eyes slide across to me and down to my lap, where I’m clutching my own script. She raises one eyebrow and says, “Interesting.” <br/>
 <br/>
“What?” Penny says, a quizzical expression on her face.<br/>
 <br/>
“I didn’t know you were into acting, Simon,” Agatha says pointedly. <br/>
 <br/>
“Oh, I –” I let out a short, unescapable laugh, “I’m not auditioning. I’m just helping Penny with her lines.” <br/>
 <br/>
She grins, “That’s nice of you.” She waits a beat before saying, “Well, I better get back to my homework. I’ll see you at auditions!”<br/>
 <br/>
I look down at the script in my hands and hear the clicking sounds of her heeled boots against the floor as she disappears into the next room. </p>
<p>-</p>
<p>I accompany Penny to the auditions on Monday. <br/>
 <br/>
They’re taking place in the school hall. It makes sense for them to be held there, since there’s an immense stage towering over rows and rows of seats. I sit on one of the seats near the back of the room. I consider climbing up the stairs to the balcony seating, to be even further away from all the showbiz, but I want Penny to see me supporting her. <br/>
 <br/>
I can’t imagine how nervous she must be. Miss Possibelf, the head of Drama at our school and director of the winter play, has ordered all the people auditioning onto the stage. There’s a lot of them. At least forty, I’d say, which is a lot considering there’s only about eighty of us in year 13. <br/>
 <br/>
I can hardly see Penny in the crowd of thespians, but I catch a glimpse of her purple hair as she roams the audience for me. I smile, hoping she can see me even though I’m slouched low on the seat with my jacket hood up. <br/>
 <br/>
Miss Possibelf begins talking. Her voice is loud and echoing in the otherwise silent room. She thanks everyone for coming, explains how the auditions are going to work and begins to explain the play she’s adapted. <br/>
 <br/>
I zone out, finding I’m much more interested in the writing carved into the seat in front of me. <br/>
 <br/>
And then something does grab my attention. Miss Possibelf talks about how she’s changed the original ‘Romeo &amp; Juliet’ into a modern, gay love story. She gives credit to her inspiration, and one of the main reasons why she decided such an inclusive play was needed at the school: <br/>
 <br/>
“Basilton Pitch has had a lot to do with the writing for this play. I’m sure you will all agree with me when I say Baz has had an amazing impact on acceptance at Watford, such as his work with the lower school LGBTQ+ support group. So, thank you Baz, for making this happen.” <br/>
 <br/>
There’s a hum of pride and appreciation running through the thespians. My eyes narrow and there he is, stood front and centre. He’s in a relaxed position, as if he isn’t being praised with attention from a large group of people. His hands are in his back pockets and his dark, soft hair is pushed back out of his face. <br/>
 <br/>
God, he’s infuriating. <br/>
 <br/>
Baz Pitch is the king of Drama at our school. Ever since his involvement in the year 9 production of Dracula, he’s been placed on a pedestal. Him and his three best friends practically own the school. <br/>
 <br/>
There’s Dev, Baz’s cousin, who usually gets all of the side-character roles in school productions. He doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, it’s kind of his thing. Dev doesn’t seem to want the spotlight; he just wants to be involved. But he’s good at acting. He’s not Baz, but he's good. <br/>
 <br/>
There’s Niall, who takes Drama with the rest of them. But he’s not amazing at it. I’ve always wondered how much he likes the subject, and whether he just takes it so he can be with his friends. Niall’s a show-off. At parties or in class, he goes out of his way to embarrass himself, and he loves every moment of it. <br/>
 <br/>
And then there’s Agatha. If Baz is the King, then Agatha is the Queen. They’ve been best friends since I met them both at the beginning of secondary school. Agatha’s ability to hold an audience’s attention is almost on par with Baz’s. All through school, they were at the top of the hierarchy. And until last year, everyone was convinced they only had eyes for each other. <br/>
 <br/>
Near the end of year 12 – the end of May, maybe – the whispers about Baz started. I remember how Katie, a girl in my English class, had leant over and asked if I’d ‘heard about Baz Pitch’. <br/>
 <br/>
“Heard what?” I’d asked. <em>That he’s a self-obsessed arse? </em><br/>
<br/>
“Apparently he’s gay,” she’d whispered back. <br/>
 <br/>
I hadn’t known what to respond. And when another person told me, I was speechless again. <br/>
 <br/>
I must’ve heard the same rumour from about ten different people in less than a week. It started getting annoying, until Penny told me she’d found out that Baz had started the rumours himself. He wanted the news to spread.<br/>
 <br/>
And then Baz posted a picture of a pride flag on his Instagram at the beginning of June. <em>Silent confirmation</em>, Penny called it. After that, Baz started to turn things around at Watford school, making sure people were being accepted for who they were. <br/>
 <br/>
I could get behind supporting people. But it doesn’t make Baz less of a dick. <br/>
 <br/>
Looking at him now, stood confidently on the stage, his shoulders back, his stance at ease, I feel nothing but annoyance. <br/>
 <br/>
Baz decided from the moment he met me that I was his enemy. I was made to sit next to him in year 7 maths. I walked in late to the class, out of breath, my cheeks burning. And when I made my way over to our shared table with a polite grin of my face, he narrowed his eyes at me and looked away. <br/>
 <br/>
So that was that. I simply existed, and Baz hated me for it. <br/>
 <br/>
Miss Possibelf continues talking, explaining how she is very willing to adapt and change more characters, such as changing their genders depending on who is suited to play them. <br/>
 <br/>
When the auditions start, people begin to walk off to the sides and the stage clears. It looks so much bigger when nobody is standing there. <br/>
 <br/>
And then Agatha walks forward with confidence, placing herself in the centre of the stage. She looks small when she’s stood there alone, but her stance emits power and boldness. When she starts acting, it’s hard not to watch. She seems really connected to playing Paris, as if she was made for the role. <br/>
 <br/>
The auditions keep going. I find it increasingly difficult to pay attention. Dev and Niall both audition for Tybalt and surprisingly, Niall suits the role quite well. <br/>
 <br/>
Trixie, from my biology class, auditions for Lady Capulet. Her girlfriend, Keris, who I’ve never spoken to before, auditions for the role of the Nurse, who, for the purpose of this modern adaptation, is now Joseph’s ‘Aunt’. <br/>
 <br/>
When Baz steps up onto the stage, I try to tear my eyes away. I stare at my hands, wondering how Baz is so superior at this school when he acts like such a posh prick. <br/>
 <br/>
Then he starts reciting lines and I find my eyes trailing back to the stage. He’s impossible to not watch. It’s infuriating. <br/>
 <br/>
He’s auditioning for the role of Joseph, which surprises me, because I thought he would want to be Romeo. But when he puts everything into Joseph’s monologue about wanting to be free to love who he wants to, I understand a bit clearer.<br/>
 <br/>
A few boys audition for Romeo. The most likely candidates consist of Max, who won’t look me in the eye after what happened at a party last year; James, whose hands are shaking uncontrollably at his sides; and Finn, who can barely seem to take his eyes off of Baz, even just to recite one monologue. <br/>
 <br/>
When Penny steps onto the stage, I sit forward in my seat. She looks nervous, her hand trembling slightly at her side, but I don’t think anyone else would notice. She squints at the audience again and I sit up, putting up my thumb to her. I can tell she’s noticed because she smiles slightly. <br/>
 <br/>
When she says her last line, I unclench my fists and grin. She nailed it. It was amazing, in fact. And I know she can tell it’s gone well because by the end, she’s beaming. She runs off stage excitedly and Miss Possibelf stands up, which silences everyone’s applauses. <br/>
 <br/>
“Are there any more auditions?” She bellows, turning her back to the stage to look out at the audience. I’m not the only one sat watching, but I sink down in my chair to avoid being noticed. <br/>
 <br/>
When nobody responds to her question, she lets everyone know that the cast list will be up on the Drama notice board by tomorrow. <br/>
 <br/>
Everyone starts to grab their bags and filter out. I stand up and shuffle into the centre aisle so Penny can see where I am. She comes running down from the stage, practically bouncing off the walls as she crashes into me in a bone-crushing embrace. <br/>
 <br/>
“How awesome was that?” She says, pulling away but still holding my forearms in both hands. <br/>
 <br/>
“So awesome. I’m so proud of you,” I say and she grins. <br/>
 <br/>
When she hugs me again, my head resting on her shoulder, I notice Agatha and Baz, stood by the stage together, watching us. Then I hear a wolf-whistle and find Dev and Niall smirking from the front row of chairs. <br/>
 <br/>
Penny sighs against me, “God, they’re annoying,” and links our arms together. “Let’s go,” she says. </p>
<p>-</p>
<p>The next morning, Penny demands that I pick her up for school earlier than usual. She’s waiting on the path when I get to her house and she barely waits for the car to stop before she’s hopping in. <br/>
 <br/>
She’s nervous for the whole drive. Her knees are bouncing up and down and she’s trying to distract herself by continuously changing the radio station. <br/>
 <br/>
“It’s going to be okay, Pen,” I tell her, but I don’t think she can hear me over her loud thoughts. <br/>
 <br/>
When I park the car, Penny leaps out and runs over to grab my hand. And then we’re bustling through the school, bolting towards the sixth form building. It takes her three tries using her card to unlock the door but eventually she’s flinging it open and tugging me over to the Drama notice board. <br/>
 <br/>
I shouldn’t be surprised to see who’s already there reading the cast list. Baz, Agatha, Dev and Niall are all hovering by it, looking smug. <br/>
 <br/>
Agatha steps out of our way when she sees Penny coming. Penny keeps hold of my hand but uses her spare hand to find who got the part of Paris. <br/>
 <br/>
And there, right next to Paris’ name, is <em><strong>Agatha Wellbelove</strong></em>. <br/>
 <br/>
Penny slumps slightly but I keep scanning the cast list. And my eyes land on <em><strong>Penelope Bunce</strong></em>, right next to the part of Mercutio. <br/>
 <br/>
“Oh my god, Pen,” I start to say, but she’s already seen it. Her eyes widen and she starts to smile. <br/>
 <br/>
“Oh my god,” she says. “Mercutio?” <br/>
 <br/>
“Miss Possibelf says she thinks a female Mercutio could be interesting,” Agatha explains. She doesn’t seem as excitable as she usually is. Perhaps it has something to do with Penny getting a part with more lines than her. But then her expression slowly changes into something that almost makes her seem . . . impressed, and she says, “I’m really happy for you, Penny.”<br/>
 <br/>
I glance back at the cast list. Baz, who is being very quiet, must be happy because he got the part of Joseph. Niall got Tybalt and Dev got Benvolio. And Finn, the boy who is in love with Baz, got Romeo. <br/>
 <br/>
“The first rehearsal is tomorrow,” Agatha says helpfully.<br/>
 <br/>
Baz is leaning against the wall and looking at something on his phone. Dev flicks his eyebrows up and says to Penny, “You could sit with us.”<br/>
 <br/>
“Yeah,” Niall says, folding his arms over his chest. “Now that you’ve got a main role, we can hang out at lunch and in rehearsals.” <br/>
 <br/>
Penny scrunches up her nose, “I think I’ll pass.” <br/>
 <br/>
Niall seems surprised. He pulls a face and says, “Why? You gotta stay loyal to your boyfriend?” Niall’s eyes slide over to me. <br/>
 <br/>
“You sound like a cringey character from a teen high school movie,” I remark. Baz finally looks up, his face unreadable. I keep my eyes on Niall, “Penny can <em>only</em> sit with you if she gets a part in a play. Why would she want that?” <br/>
 <br/>
“Are you jealous?” Niall says. “You wish you would get invited to our table?” <br/>
 <br/>
“No, I really don’t.” <br/>
 <br/>
Niall scoffs. Dev chuckles. Agatha rolls her eyes and says, “Both of you can sit with us any time. Ignore these idiots. Right, Baz?” <br/>
 <br/>
Baz purses his lips and glances individually at all the faces waiting for him to speak. He simply hums, saying nothing. <br/>
 <br/>
“Baz definitely doesn’t agree,” Dev says. “I’m sure Baz and Simon sat together would go <em>really</em> well.” <br/>
 <br/>
So, amidst Baz’s obvious hatred for me, we managed to make sure everyone knew about our rivalry. From insults being thrown across the classroom to pushes and shoves in PE class, everyone knew we hated one another. <br/>
 <br/>
“I think I’d rather choke on my own tongue,” I say. <br/>
 <br/>
“Go on then,” Baz says suddenly. His voice startles me, but I don’t let it show. He smirks, “I dare you,” and I have to look away. <br/>
 <br/>
“Fuck off,” I mutter. <br/>
 <br/>
“Let’s leave. I’m bored of this,” Baz says. He picks his bag up from the floor and starts walking, not waiting for his friends. <br/>
 <br/>
Dev and Niall rush to catch up with him. Agatha smiles sympathetically at me and squeezes Penny’s shoulder, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” </p>
<p>-</p>
<p>The next day, Penny wants me to come to the first rehearsal. And I have nothing better to do, so I find my space at the back of the hall and slouch low in my seat. <br/>
 <br/>
Miss Possibelf starts at exactly 3:30, wasting no time. She hands out the full scripts to each of the main characters. Penny’s eyes light up when she receives hers. Miss Possibelf lets everyone know rehearsals will be every Monday, Wednesday and Friday after school. “The times will be revised closer to opening night, so we can rehearse more regularly.” <br/>
 <br/>
Opening night is set for the week before Christmas, which seems awfully close when Miss Possibelf shows everyone a timetable of events. <br/>
 <br/>
She introduces the people who are going to be helping backstage and I’m surprised to see Shep in the small group of people. “Shep is going to be our lighting technician,” she explains, clapping him on the back. <br/>
 <br/>
This will be interesting. <br/>
 <br/>
Shep has had a crush on Penny from the very moment he joined our secondary school in year 9. She offered to help him in food tech, when he was moments away from burning his apple cake. I saw the look on his face when he saw her. All wide, scared eyes and daft smile. He fancied her from the beginning. <br/>
 <br/>
He still looks at her like that now. <br/>
 <br/>
Everyone knows it, too. Instead of actually making a move, Shep just talks about his love for Penny to <em>anybody who isn’t Penny</em>. So the whole school knows, and still he won’t just ask her out.<br/>
 <br/>
I think she’d probably say yes. If he did ask.<br/>
 <br/>
He stands there now, in his stupid suspenders and goofy glasses, and smiles sheepishly. He looks at Penny and she blushes. <br/>
 <br/>
“So, I want to start off today by testing the chemistry between characters. So I’m going to ask you two at a time to flip to a scene and we’ll see how it looks. I’d like to start with the obvious –” She gestures to Baz, who’s holding his script casually under one arm. “Romeo and Joseph. If everyone else would like to take a seat in the first few rows.” <br/>
 <br/>
The stage clears and the cast start to fill up the front of the audience. Penny finds me at the back and puts her thumb up. I do the same back. <br/>
 <br/>
Baz and Finn, playing Romeo, are on the stage. Baz looks as relaxed as ever, his script open where they must’ve been told to begin. Finn, on the other hand, seems on edge. He looks at Baz and bites his lip, blushing when Baz looks up at him. <br/>
 <br/>
They start the scene. It’s after the Capulet party, when Joseph is on his balcony reciting a monologue and Romeo is down below. <br/>
 <br/>
It goes pretty well. Strangely, Finn’s obsession with Baz bodes well for the characters. Romeo is a romantic and more importantly, he <em>needs</em> love.  First Rosaline (or in this play’s case, Rich) and then Joseph. The way Finn looks at Baz – it makes sense. <br/>
 <br/>
Agatha switches places with Finn. Paris is supposed to want Joseph much more than Joseph will ever want her. Agatha is good at playing that. She makes her voice sound needy, and possessive, and clingy. Baz makes himself sound detached, but desperate for an escape. <br/>
 <br/>
When Niall stands up, ready to make his way onto the stage, his eyes meet mine in the audience. He starts to smirk and says, loudly, with the intention of me hearing, “Penelope, your guard dog is here.” <br/>
 <br/>
Penny glances at me sympathetically, then responds to Niall, but I can’t hear what she says. <br/>
 <br/>
“Don’t you get sick of him trailing around after you?” Niall says then. <br/>
 <br/>
Miss Possibelf orders Niall to hurry up, so he turns away and struts up onto the stage. </p>
<p>-</p>
<p>The next day, there is no rehearsal. But Penny wants to practice her lines anyway. So during our free period, we wander across the school, to the hall, and start on them. <br/>
 <br/>
I try to insist that I should sit in the audience to read the lines. That Penny can stand on the stage if she wants, but I’m better off down here. But then she grabs my hand and drags me up the stairs, pulling me to the front. <br/>
 <br/>
I thought it would be scary. When I was watching Penny’s auditions, I felt terrified for her, just imagining how small you must feel in comparison to the huge audience. <br/>
 <br/>
Standing here is worse. I’m tiny. The stage is massive. <br/>
 <br/>
“There’s nobody here, Simon,” Penny reassures me, frowning when she sees my terrified eyes. “Just you and me.” <br/>
 <br/>
“I don’t even have stage fright,” I say, because I feel like I have to say something. “It’s just really . . .”<br/>
 <br/>
I don’t finish my sentence, but she grins anyway, “It’s exhilarating, isn’t it?” <br/>
 <br/>
“Not really.” <br/>
 <br/>
“Well, let’s see what you think after I’ve seen some proper acting.” <br/>
 <br/>
Penny and I run through the scene, stood facing one another on the stage. <br/>
 <br/>
It’s the very beginning, when Mercutio, Benvolio and Romeo are on their way to the Capulet party. And they’re discussing Romeo’s heartbreak over Rich. Penny plays Mercutio perfectly every time. My acting, however, is abysmal. <br/>
 <br/>
Penny chuckles halfway through the scene, “Christ, Simon,” she says, sighing. <br/>
 <br/>
“I’m not an actor!” I protest. <br/>
 <br/>
“Come on,” she says. “Let’s do it for real this time. I want to see you <em>really</em> try. Really try to connect with Romeo.” </p>
<p>“It doesn’t work like that.” </p>
<p>“Why not?” She says. “You take English lit and you love Shakespeare. You’ve analysed Romeo’s words before. Just connect with what he’s saying. For me.” </p>
<p>I run a hand over my face and huff, “Fine. Just once. But you can’t laugh.” <br/>
 <br/>
She agrees. <br/>
 <br/>
There has never been a moment in my life where I have enjoyed Drama. In primary school, I was given the easy roles – the donkey in the Nativity, a pumpkin in Cinderella, nothing. I <em>enjoyed</em> being nothing. It was much easier than being seen. Especially when I just wanted an easy life. All I wanted was to be hidden. <br/>
 <br/>
I’m not sure what I want anymore. Sometimes I dream of seeing my name posted on the front of my own storybook cover. Seeing my face in a shop window. Other times I imagine a simple life – my own house by the sea, a dog, a vegetable patch, working an ordinary, stable job. <br/>
 <br/>
All I know is that a career in theatrics is <em>not</em> the path I’m choosing.<br/>
 <br/>
And yet, I take a deep breath, closing my eyes momentarily, and then I begin the scene. Penny takes over Mercutio and Benvolio’s lines, making sure that I’m focused solely on Romeo. So I focus. I tap into him and I say the lines as I think he would. <br/>
 <br/>
When it’s over, I drop the script to my side and say, “I’m terrible.” <br/>
 <br/>
Penny is grinning properly, her teeth bared, her cheeks pushing her glasses up. She says excitedly, “Simon! That was awesome!” </p>
<p>“Really?” <br/>
 <br/>
“Yes.” It’s not Penny’s voice. I turn around, shocked to find Miss Possibelf at the end of the hall. She slowly makes her way down the aisle, her hands clasped together. “I didn’t know you could act, Simon Snow.” <br/>
 <br/>
“I can’t,” I say. Miss Possibelf used to teach me Drama when I was in year 9. I was hopeless, and she knew it. <br/>
 <br/>
“What was that, then?” <br/>
 <br/>
“I just tapped into Romeo,” I shrug, as if it’s nothing. <br/>
 <br/>
“That’s acting, Simon,” Miss Possibelf says. “And you’re good at it.” <br/>
 <br/>
I don’t know what to say, so I look down at my muddy trainers and wonder whether it’s possible to take back the last five minutes of my life. <br/>
 <br/>
“I want you to be Finn’s understudy,” Miss Possibelf says. My head snaps up at that. I stare at her, mouth falling open. <br/>
 <br/>
“I don’t think that’s –”<br/>
 <br/>
“You were at the rehearsal yesterday?” She asks. I nod wordlessly. “And you intended to come to more of them?” <br/>
 <br/>
“I did, but only to support Penny –”<br/>
 <br/>
“Well now you can support Penny and learn Romeo’s lines,” she concludes. When I don’t try to argue, she smiles triumphantly and swivels on her heel, “I’ll be seeing you both tomorrow at rehearsal.”<br/>
 <br/>
Neither Penny nor I say a word until the door has slammed closed. I can’t believe what I’ve been dragged into. <br/>
 <br/>
Penny seems as though she cannot believe it either. Her eyes are wide and confused, but she’s smiling. She’s impressed, it seems. <br/>
 <br/>
“So, um,” I say, disturbing the otherwise silent room, “What’s an understudy?” </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Prince of Thieves</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Baz reacts to the news of the new understudy and there's a halloween party.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Another update! I hope you guys like it xx</p><p>I'm really rolling with the fanfic tropes. I can't help myself.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>By Friday, everyone has heard that I’m Finn’s understudy. </p><p>The reactions to the news are varied; Agatha is thrilled, ruffling my hair with a smile that would make me positively die if I were the same Simon from all those years ago. Niall laughs like a comic-book villain. Dev, sat beside him, just scoffs, as if it isn’t worth more of a reaction. </p><p>I can’t say I blame them for their reactions. The idea of me being an understudy – the idea of me <em>actually</em> taking over Finn’s role – makes me want to laugh. Or cry. Hysterically. <br/>
 <br/>
It’s a terrible idea. Maybe Miss Possibelf will soon realise this and fire me. <br/>
 <br/>
Can you be fired from a role like this? <br/>
 <br/>
It isn’t until psychology class on Friday that I learn how Baz feels about my new role.<br/>
 <br/>
Psychology is the only subject we take together, which is good, since he is frankly unbearable to be around. Usually we sit as far apart from one another as humanly possible but today, when he comes through the door with his hair pushed back and a scowl on his face, he sits in the seat directly behind me. <br/>
 <br/>
Despite this strange occurrence, I don’t expect anything to come of it. I am, therefore, startled when I feel a tap on my shoulder. Our psychology teacher is at the front of the class, staring at her computer screen and ignoring us. <br/>
 <br/>
I wait until he taps my shoulder again, rougher this time. I turn around and press my lips together, staring at him until he talks. <br/>
 <br/>
“How did <em>you</em> manage to be Finn’s understudy?” He mutters, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. <br/>
 <br/>
I shrug, “I don’t know.” <br/>
 <br/>
“What do you mean you ‘don’t know’?” He mimics my voice, then sneers, “What did you <em>do</em>?” <br/>
 <br/>
“I was reading Romeo’s lines to help Penny rehearse hers,” I say, making a face at him. I feel the need to add, “I didn’t want the part. I didn’t get a choice.” <br/>
 <br/>
He seems irritated. “Do you seriously expect me to believe that <em>you</em> did such a good job of reading Romeo’s lines that you were given the part?” <br/>
 <br/>
“I don’t care what you believe.” <br/>
 <br/>
He laughs then, bitterly, without smiling, and doesn’t bother responding. <br/>
 <br/>
“Don’t panic, Baz,” I say. “The last thing I want to do is take your precious Finn’s place.” <br/>
 <br/>
His jaw clenches at my words. Satisfied, I turn back around, so he doesn’t get the chance to defend himself. <br/>
 <br/>
I think that’s the end of it. <br/>
 <br/>
But it’s not. <br/>
 <br/>
At the end of class, I pack up my stuff to leave. I’m out of the room before Baz is, but then I feel a hand gripping the back of my jumper and pulling me back. I turn to him, immediately annoyed, and adjust my jumper back to normal. <br/>
 <br/>
“Can you not <em>manhandle</em> me?” I say. He leans a shoulder against the hallway wall, unfazed. <br/>
 <br/>
“I want to see it,” he says. My neck starts to feel hot, waiting patiently for him to explain his words. He watches the colour rise to my face and his jaw clenches again. He continues, his words coming out fast, “I want to see you recite some of Romeo’s lines.” <br/>
 <br/>
“Why?” <br/>
 <br/>
“I want to know why you were good enough for Miss Possibelf to make you Finn’s understudy,” he says, sighing at the fact that he even has to explain. <br/>
 <br/>
“Okay,” I say. “My answer is no.” <br/>
 <br/>
I start to turn but Baz grabs my arm and flips me back around. He steps back, out of my space, and says, “Go on. I dare you.” <br/>
 <br/>
I let out a short, uncontrollable laugh and say, “It’s still a no.” <br/>
 <br/>
He takes his script out of his bag. I watch him do it, aware that I could just walk away at any moment. But I don’t. <br/>
 <br/>
He holds out the script to me on the first page. “Just this line,” he points. “Let’s see how fucking tragic this is.” <br/>
 <br/>
He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back against the wall and waiting patiently. When I glance up at him, he flicks his eyebrows towards the script. <br/>
 <br/>
So I say the line. I don’t say it as Romeo. I say it as Simon Snow – bored, tired Simon Snow, who has no interest in impressing Baz. <br/>
 <br/>
When I finish it, he snatches the script out of my grip and sneers, “Awful. Of course.” I don’t care what he thinks. He shoves the script back into his bag and shoves me on his way past. He mutters, “Don’t ruin this for me,” and that’s the end. </p><p>-</p><p>The same day, at the beginning of rehearsals, Miss Possibelf makes me sit in the front row. “You’re going to need to be watching carefully,” she explains, but that’s my only direction. <br/>
 <br/>
Miss Possibelf wants to run through the opening scene. Mercutio, Benvolio and Romeo on their way to the Capulet party, discussing Romeo’s heartbreak over losing Rich. Penny, Dev and Finn all make their way onto the stage, standing awkwardly far away from each other. They look like a very strange trio – strangers, not friends. But Miss Possibelf must see some potential. <br/>
 <br/>
They hold their scripts in front of them, going through the scene whilst Miss Possibelf, sat about six seats down from me, makes notes in her journal. She asks them to do it again but with a slight change. <br/>
 <br/>
For this scene, Keris, Trixie’s girlfriend, is going to be designing masks for the three of them to wear. I notice the two girls backstage, hidden partially by a curtain, leaning close to each other’s faces. They both got the parts they auditioned for: Lady Capulet and Aunt (Nurse). <br/>
 <br/>
When they go through the scene for a third time, I imagine what it would be like to really replace Finn. To be Romeo in front of all of these people. To be Romeo in front of a full audience. To be the Romeo to Baz’s Joseph. <br/>
 <br/>
Just the mere thought of it makes me feel queasy. <br/>
 <br/>
When they start moving around for another scene, I let my head fall backwards against the chair. My eyes start to feel heavy and soon enough, I fall asleep. <br/>
 <br/>
I dream of a world where I’m not someone’s understudy.<br/>
 <br/>
A calming, soft voice whispering, “Morning, sleepyhead,” causes me to jolt awake. My eyes fly open and I find Agatha leaning close, smiling politely. “You drifted off,” she points out. <br/>
 <br/>
Her golden eyes stare back at me. Years ago, I probably would’ve passed out at the <em>thought</em> of her looking at me. Now, I rub a hand over my face and stifle an unattractive yawn. “I – uh, didn’t get much sleep last night,” I explain. <br/>
 <br/>
She tilts her head towards the stage, “They need you on there now.” <br/>
 <br/>
“On where?” I ask dumbly. My neck aches from the position I fell asleep in. <br/>
 <br/>
“The stage,” she gestures to it with her hands now. “Miss Possibelf wants to test the chemistry of the understudies. You know, just in case.” <br/>
 <br/>
I gulp. I should’ve never agreed to this. <br/>
 <br/>
I let Agatha pull me up by my arm. When I’m standing, she pats me twice on the back. I start slowly towards the stairs leading up to the stage. <br/>
 <br/>
“Come on, Simon. We’re waiting on you,” Miss Possibelf calls from her seat. <br/>
 <br/>
I should’ve never signed up to this. Although, I suppose, I didn’t actually have much of a choice. I hate Drama. I’m a sorry excuse for an actor. I don’t even know who Baz’s understudy is. <br/>
 <br/>
I stop just behind the curtain backstage, letting out a deep breath before stepping out in front of everyone. I keep my head down, gazing at my scuffed-up trainers. <br/>
 <br/>
I find myself only looking up when another pair of shoes comes into my view. They’re orange, with mud smeared up one side of them. <em>Oh, Christ. </em><br/>
<br/>
<em>Of course</em> Max is Baz’s understudy. He’s always loved Drama class. Penny says in Drama class, Max is quiet, but always listening and hoping to learn more. I had noticed him at the auditions, but it never occurred to me that this could happen. <br/>
 <br/>
Things weren’t always awkward between me and Max. In fact, I used to enjoy chatting with him during my free periods at school. </p><p>Then, at a party near the end of year 12, Max had leant in and asked me if I wanted to go outside. I said yes. Out on the patio, there were only two other people. Baz and Agatha, who paid us no attention. Max was pretty hammered, holding onto the wall for support. I tried to help keep him up, and then he kissed me. </p><p>He didn’t speak to me after that, except to beg me not to tell anyone. Then he avoided me during every free period, and so the whole situation never came up again. </p><p>Now he stands in front of me onstage, pushing up his bottom lip in an awful attempt at smiling. I wonder if anyone else can tell there’s a tension between us. </p><p>Miss Possibelf claps her hands to gain our attention, “Simon Snow, where’s your script?” </p><p>“Oh, it’s –” I point at my seat, where my script is sat. </p><p>Miss Possibelf huffs, stalking over and passing it to me. <br/>
 <br/>
“We’re going to run through the scene where Joseph and Romeo meet,” she explains. “Just try your best.” <br/>
 <br/>
I clear my throat, before beginning to engage in the scene. Romeo sees Joseph and is immediately mesmerised by his beauty. But I can’t connect with Romeo anymore. I feel unbalanced, wishing I wasn’t pretending to be falling in love with a boy who kissed me last year and never spoke to me again. <br/>
 <br/>
It goes terribly. Miss Possibelf stops us a page before Romeo and Joseph’s first kiss, which I’m thankful for. I think I might’ve sprinted out of here if she asked us to do that.<br/>
 <br/>
I press the script close to my chest. Penny looks up at me from the front row and smiles sympathetically. <br/>
 <br/>
“Okay, so,” Miss Possibelf says in a strained voice. “That was . . . yeah. Let’s hope everybody can make it to opening night.” <br/>
 <br/>
She asks Max to stay onstage but tells me to wait behind the curtain. As I’m hurrying off, I pass Finn, who is confidently making his way to the centre to run through the scene with Max. Miss Possibelf wants to test everyone’s chemistry, just to be sure we’d still be able to go through with the show if either Baz or Finn couldn’t make it. <br/>
 <br/>
I stand at a distance from Baz, who I hadn’t even noticed was watching. He’s leaning his shoulder against the wall, watching me with what appears to be curiosity. <br/>
 <br/>
“That was a car crash,” he remarks after a few minutes have passed. <br/>
 <br/>
“Just make sure you and Finn make it to opening night.” <br/>
 <br/>
He narrows his eyes, “Why was that so awkward?” <br/>
 <br/>
“You know why,” I say. <br/>
 <br/>
And if he didn’t know before, he does now. His eyebrows raise slowly, as if he’s recalling the night from his perspective. What a sight that must’ve been. Max, throwing himself onto me, whilst Agatha and Baz are just trying to have a conversation on the patio. <br/>
 <br/>
This is the first time we’ve mentioned it but as far as I know, neither Baz nor Agatha have repeated what they saw. Whether Max was having a sexuality crisis, or it really was just a drunken mistake, it wasn’t for any of us to repeat. <br/>
 <br/>
“Bet he’s excited to practice your kiss,” Baz says suddenly. <br/>
 <br/>
My cheeks start to burn, a sick feeling swirling in my stomach. “Do I actually have to do that?” I ask, but he just stares forward at the stage. <br/>
 <br/>
“I meant to ask,” I start to say. He doesn’t look at me but I can tell he’s listening. “Now that I’ve got a part in the play, does this mean I can sit with you guys at lunch?” I say it sarcastically, and he lifts his gaze to look at my pouting face. <br/>
 <br/>
“Fuck off,” he says and I laugh. <br/>
 <br/>
Miss Possibelf calls me and Baz onto the stage, wanting to test our chemistry. I could probably have just told her the answer to that before: <em>there isn’t any.</em> <br/>
 <br/>
Baz walks ahead of me, taking his place centre stage. I join him only seconds later, feeling jittery after the awkward encounter with Max. When I glance at Baz, his expression is cold and reserved. <br/>
 <br/>
Romeo falls in love first with Joseph’s beauty. Baz’s beauty is icy and cold, from the sharp tense of his jawline to the dark strands of hair framing his face. I shake my head, clearing any ridiculous thoughts about Baz being <em>beautiful.</em> <br/>
 <br/>
And yet, when I start the scene, I fight to connect with Romeo. To understand Romeo’s fascination with this unattainable, attractive, young man. <br/>
 <br/>
I find myself engaging with the scene like I never thought possible, responding to Baz’s lines with my own twist on Romeo. Baz, masked by his own acting, is completely unreadable. And then Miss Possibelf stops the scene and Baz closes his script, gripping it tightly with one hand. <br/>
 <br/>
He looks more shocked than I’ve ever seen him. His lips are slightly parted, his unblinking eyes filled with suspicion. Then Miss Possibelf starts clapping and Baz’s expression drops. <br/>
 <br/>
“Amazing!” She calls. <br/>
 <br/>
I tear my eyes away from Baz to look out at the other cast members. Penny has her hand on her heart, a smile on her lips. Agatha looks completely bewildered. Dev has his arms crossed and Niall is frozen, staring. <br/>
 <br/>
Maybe I can do this. </p><p>-</p><p>On Monday, I’m sat in the library writing an essay for English when Agatha walks through the door. There’s nobody else around, so I jump when I hear the sound of the door slamming closed. She meets my eyes and smiles an apology for scaring me. <br/>
 <br/>
She sits easily opposite me, as if this is something we do all the time. “Hey,” she says softly. “Is it alright if I sit with you?” <br/>
 <br/>
I glance at the way she’s already settled into the seat with her books on the table. “Yeah, that’s fine,” I say. <br/>
 <br/>
“You were amazing yesterday.”<br/>
 <br/>
I furrow my eyebrows at her. <br/>
 <br/>
“At rehearsals. It was awkward when you were with Max but then when you tried the scene with Baz . . . I didn’t know you could act like that.”<br/>
 <br/>
“I didn’t really do anything,” I mumble. <br/>
 <br/>
“But you did!” She sits up and puts her elbows on the table. “Now I just wonder why you didn’t put in the same amount of effort when you actually took Drama.” <br/>
 <br/>
“Because . . .” I say, “I don’t care about it.”<br/>
 <br/>
“But you care now?” She asks. When I don’t respond, she tilts her head to try to catch my eyes again, “Listen,” she says and I reluctantly look up at her, “If you ever want to go through lines or you need any help with anything, just let me know.” <br/>
 <br/>
If I was still in year 8, I would probably have a heart attack at hearing her offer. <br/>
 <br/>
Now, I just frown, “I’m sure your group would love that.”<br/>
 <br/>
She sighs then. “They’re not as bad as you think.”<br/>
 <br/>
I scoff, “No, I’m sure they are exactly as bad as I think.” <br/>
 <br/>
Agatha must see something in my expression that makes her decide not to argue. Baz decided I was the enemy before I even opened my mouth. And then Dev and Niall made it their mission to make me miserable. I don’t need to hear about how great they really are. <br/>
 <br/>
The door swings open and closed again and Baz saunters in. He pushes his wind-swept hair back and narrows his eyes at me and Agatha sitting together. <br/>
 <br/>
When she glances back at me, I raise my eyebrows as if to say ‘I told you so’. <br/>
 <br/>
“What are you doing, Wellbelove?” He asks, putting his things on another table and starting to sit down. <br/>
 <br/>
“Talking to Simon here,” she says slowly. “I offered to help him practice his lines.” <br/>
 <br/>
He stares at the books on his table. I wonder if his fists are clenched on his lap. “Is there anyone you don’t flirt with?” He asks, lifting his head to smoothly smirk in her direction. <br/>
 <br/>
She must sense a lightness to his tone because she cackles and says, “Not Niall. Never Niall.” <br/>
 <br/>
Baz’s lips quirk. There’s a softness to him when he’s in the company of someone he actually likes. It’s almost unnoticeable, but it’s there. <br/>
 <br/>
I put my head down and carry on with my essay, blaring out the sounds of their chatter. </p><p>-</p><p>For the next week, rehearsals are slow and tiring. It takes up a lot more time than I realised. And when I’m not at rehearsals, I’m constantly thinking about them. The school play is starting to take over my life. <br/>
 <br/>
I start trying to use my time in rehearsals wisely. Sometimes I’ll be in the mood to study, but most of the time I hide my phone by my legs and play games on it. I often find myself nodding off to sleep, only to have somebody calmly wake me up. On one occasion, Miss Possibelf notices me snoozing and calls me out in front of everyone. <br/>
 <br/>
Sometimes, I find my eyes being dragged up to the stage. Baz has a way of taking control when he’s acting. He possesses everyone into paying attention only to him. And I can’t seem to tear my eyes away. <br/>
 <br/>
Miss Possibelf jumps around scenes. One moment they’re practicing the opening and the next they’re at the very end. Often it’s difficult to keep up. <br/>
 <br/>
All I know is that they haven’t covered any kissing scenes yet. There are three in total. Any time that the three scenes are covered, they will stop right before the kiss. <br/>
 <br/>
I don’t know if I’m imagining things, but Baz always seems relieved when Miss Possibelf tells them to stop. <br/>
 <br/>
The following Monday, Shep, who has been trying to get to grips with the lighting, has finally worked out how to do everything. Miss Possibelf wants to see how lighting works in the opening scene. She orders Mercutio, Benvolio and Romeo onto the stage. <br/>
 <br/>
The scene is pretty polished now. They’ve gone over it so many times now that I could probably have a good attempt at reciting <em>all three</em> of their lines. <br/>
 <br/>
Shep casts some lighting onto the stage. It’s just a subtle yellow over the three actors. <br/>
 <br/>
When they start the scene, I notice the lighting has changed, and there is now a spotlight pointed only onto Penny. As she moves across the stage, the spotlight follows her. <br/>
 <br/>
“Shep, what are you doing?” Miss Possibelf calls up to him in his booth on the balcony. He doesn’t respond, but after a moment the yellow lighting returns.  <br/>
 <br/>
Penny squints up at the light, holding a hand against it, almost as if she’s trying to find Shep on the balcony. She gives up after a second and starts the scene again. <br/>
 <br/>
The spotlight comes back. It follows only Penny. She realises this time, looking at the circular shape around her, and flushing bright pink. <br/>
 <br/>
After rehearsals, I pick up my bag and stride up the stairs onto the balcony. I find Shep sat in his booth with his head in his hands. He startles when he hears me stomping over. <br/>
 <br/>
“That was so embarrassing,” he says, groaning. <br/>
 <br/>
“Just ask her out, man,” I say firmly. He raises his eyebrows in surprise. “I don’t know what she’ll say, but it’s worth trying. You’ve liked her for years.”<br/>
 <br/>
He gulps and takes a moment to process my words. But then he’s nodding, “Okay.” </p><p>-</p><p>On Saturday, I look at myself in the mirror and I can’t believe what I’m seeing. <br/>
 <br/>
After Wednesday’s rehearsal, Agatha had stood on a chair to make an announcement, leaning one hand against Dev’s shoulder to steady herself. Her voice echoed through the entire room: “Early Halloween party at my house on Saturday. If you don’t have a costume, you’re not allowed in!” <br/>
 <br/>
As she got down onto the floor and everybody dispersed, I grabbed my bag and started to make my way towards the door. Agatha blocked my path, asking me, “You are coming, aren’t you?” <br/>
 <br/>
“I’ll think about it,” I’d said. <br/>
 <br/>
“I think you should come.” <br/>
 <br/>
She left it at that. The idea of going to a party full of people I don’t like just didn’t appeal to me. At all. <br/>
 <br/>
But then Penny came sprinting over to where I was waiting by my car for her, her arms in the air, her smile wide, and told me, “Shep asked me to go to the party with him on Saturday.”<br/>
 <br/>
I don’t know why I was surprised, since I told him to do it. “. . . and you said?” <br/>
 <br/>
“Yes!” She looked giddy and pleased in a way I’d never seen before. Penny has never had much of an interest in boys, and it will take a lot for a man to be good enough for her. “We have to go, Simon!” <br/>
 <br/>
So that’s how I end up stood in front of my mirror dressed as Robin Hood. I look ridiculous, holding a stupid bow and arrow, wearing stupidly big brown boots. <br/>
 <br/>
When Penny arrives, dressed as Alice in Wonderland, she stifles a laugh at my outfit. “You bought this for me!” I practically shout but she just keeps giggling and pointing at the weird belt around my waist. <br/>
 <br/>
Shep picks us up in his car since he’s not drinking at the party. I hop into the back seat and Penny’s cheeks turn pink as she climbs in next to Shep. <br/>
 <br/>
“Are you not wearing a costume?” I ask Shep. “Agatha says if you don’t, you’re not allowed in.” <br/>
 <br/>
“I do have a costume,” Shep says. He grins, reaching into his cup holder beside him and grabbing what looks like a small stick. I stare at it wordlessly until he finally explains, “It’s a wand!” <br/>
 <br/>
“It’s a brown stick,” Penny says matter-of-factly. <br/>
 <br/>
“So now you’re holding a ‘wand’, what are you?” I ask. <br/>
 <br/>
“A magician?”<br/>
 <br/>
I turn and give Penny a blank expression, “I look like<em> this</em>, and he gets to just hold a stick?” <br/>
 <br/>
She shrugs at me without looking. <br/>
 <br/>
Agatha’s house is on the other side of town. I listen intently to the radio until Penny asks me curiously, “Simon, have you told Ebb about your new part in the play?” <br/>
 <br/>
“Oh yeah,” I smile at the memory of it. “She’s over-joyed.” <br/>
 <br/>
Ebb, my foster mum, loves acting. She came to support me in primary school plays, even when I had the worst non-speaking parts possible. I think she’s been to see ‘Blood Brothers’ in theatre about five times now. <br/>
 <br/>
When I told her that I was Finn’s understudy, she practically squealed. She gave me a big hug and said she’s proud of me, even after I said that means I probably won’t actually step on the stage. I’m just a last case scenario. A plan B. <br/>
 <br/>
We eventually arrive at the party. There’s nobody at the door making sure we’re all wearing costumes but as soon as we walk into what appears to be the living room, I see a flash of blonde hair and Agatha, inspecting my clothes. <br/>
 <br/>
The party isn’t as crazy as I thought it would be. It seems to be mostly the same people I always see at rehearsals. And Agatha’s house is huge, so she could definitely invite more people if she wanted to. <br/>
 <br/>
She runs her eyes up and down my outfit and says, “Robin Hood, huh?” <br/>
 <br/>
“Penny bought it,” I tell her. She’s got her blonde hair tied up into two ponytails either side of her head, the ends of one coloured pink and the ends of the other coloured blue. “Harley Quinn?” <br/>
 <br/>
“Of course,” she grins. Her clothes are short and tight and I can’t help but notice the buzz of attention she’s getting from around the room. <br/>
 <br/>
I turn back to my friends, ready to shame Shep in front of Agatha for only bringing a brown stick as a costume, but they’ve both disappeared. <br/>
 <br/>
“Did you see where Penny and Shep went?” I ask Agatha. She doesn’t hear what I say, so I lean in closer to her to repeat it. <br/>
 <br/>
From across the room, I see Baz sat on a sofa with Dev beside him. His legs are long and lean, crossed over in front of him. He’s got one elbow on the arm of the sofa, a drink in his hand. He’s dressed in all black, a trickle of red paint smearing from his mouth. <br/>
 <br/>
A vampire. How fitting. <br/>
 <br/>
“No,” Agatha responds. She pulls me down by my shoulder to talk to me. Baz’s eyes narrow. “Come on, we’ll get a drink.” </p><p>-</p><p>Agatha stays with me for a while. She mixes the most disgusting cocktails I’ve ever tasted, snorting at the faces I make when it burns my throat. <br/>
 <br/>
My head starts to feel light, and distantly, I can hear Agatha telling me something and then tugging on my hand, pulling me into another room. It looks like a smaller version of the living room, with another sofa and a piano in the corner of the room. </p><p>There are more people in here. Agatha orders everyone into a circle and pulls me down beside her. I notice Penny and Shep sitting down uncertainly. Baz, Dev and Niall are opposite me and Agatha, on the other side of the circle. Baz’s jaw clenches when I hold eye contact with him. Anger and frustration flashes in his grey eyes. <br/>
 <br/>
“We’re playing truth or dare,” Agatha orders.<br/>
 <br/>
There are varied responses from around the circle. Penny says, “Are we in some sort of teenage movie?” <br/>
 <br/>
“Yes,” Agatha says. “Now, who wants to go first? Niall?”<br/>
 <br/>
Niall, always enthusiastic to be a show-off, starts the game by choosing dare. Niall ends up wearing one of Agatha’s crop tops for the rest of the game. He looks down and pokes his belly button, asking Baz, “Do I look good?” <br/>
 <br/>
Baz does nothing more than shove his shoulder. <br/>
 <br/>
The game is pretty tame. Trixie has to lick Keris’ foot, which she does whilst muffling her laughter. A girl from my English class describes her craziest sexual experience – in detail. Finn, who I hadn’t noticed at first, is asked who he finds the most attractive in the group. He blushes, looking down at his lap and mutters Baz’s name. There’s no surprise there. <br/>
 <br/>
I begin to feel pretty detached from the group, which I’m glad about. Nobody has chosen me yet. I’m simply an onlooker. <br/>
 <br/>
And then Keris says my name, “Truth or dare?” <br/>
 <br/>
“Dare,” I answer quickly. Just from observing the game, I decided I would choose dare. The truth questions seem to have exposed the most. <br/>
 <br/>
Trixie leans across to her girlfriend and whispers something, shielding her mouth with her hand. Keris’ eyes are wide and excited when she pulls away. Keris challenges me, “I dare you to kiss Agatha.” </p><p>The alcohol is slowing my reactions. It’s making me giddy and frivolous. I slowly glance at Agatha, but she’s already watching me with a smile playing at her lips. Simon from year 8 would be screaming at me now. <br/>
 <br/>
“Is that okay?” I ask in a quiet voice. She nods, pressing her hand against the carpet and leaning forward. <br/>
 <br/>
She kisses me. It’s a soft, chaste kiss. And it’s nice. Everything Agatha does is nice. But that’s all it is. <br/>
 <br/>
For some unknown reason, when Agatha backs out of my space, the first person I look at is Baz. He’s already watching me, his lips pursed. He raises his red cup to his mouth and drinks. </p><p>-</p><p>When the game is over, I follow Penny and Shep into the kitchen. Shep starts pouring us more drinks whilst Penny holds onto my shoulders and says, “You kissed Agatha!”<br/>
 <br/>
“I know. I was there.” <br/>
 <br/>
“Simon, isn’t that, like, your dream come true?” She shakes my shoulders slightly, making my head feel heavier. <br/>
 <br/>
When Shep hands me a red cup, I drink it without thinking. Shep’s presence distracts Penny from our conversation. I keep sipping my drink, only partially paying attention to what’s going on around me. <br/>
 <br/>
My stomach starts to swirl. My entire body jolts with the sudden realisation that<em> I am going to be sick</em>. I slam my cup down on the kitchen counter and rush to the front door. Nobody pays me any attention as I rip the door open and stop on the front porch. With no time to check I’m alone, I bend over and throw up onto the bushes on Agatha’s front garden. <br/>
 <br/>
My stomach starts to calm down and I stand up straight again, pushing my hair off my forehead. <br/>
 <br/>
“That’s attractive,” remarks a sarcastic voice from across the porch. Baz, holding onto one of the columns, a cigarette hanging between his blood-red lips. <br/>
 <br/>
“I’m not trying to be,” I snarl. One side of his lips quirks, smoke billowing from between them. <br/>
 <br/>
“You want a water?” He says suddenly. I’m taken back, staring suspiciously at the glass he’s holding out. “It was mine. You can have it.” When I don’t take it, he rolls his eyes, “Do you think I’ve poisoned it?” <br/>
 <br/>
“You might’ve,” I mutter, stepping towards him and accepting the glass. It’s cool against my fingers. I take a sip, realising he had no way of knowing I would’ve gotten drunk enough to throw up on Agatha’s front lawn. So he couldn’t’ve planned this. I think. <br/>
 <br/>
“You can’t handle your alcohol,” he says. <br/>
 <br/>
“I can usually.” <br/>
 <br/>
He takes a puff of his cigarette, then lets it dangle between his fingers. “Prince of Thieves,” he says lowly. He’s gazing at my outfit. </p><p>“Vampire,” I say back. </p><p>“I thought it made sense.” </p><p>“You confessing to something?”</p><p>He rolls his eyes. A silence settles around us. </p><p>Then, “Do you have a crush on Wellbelove?” He asks suddenly. There’s an edge to his voice that I can’t unpick. <br/>
 <br/>
“I did,” I admit. I don’t know what’s driving my honesty. <br/>
 <br/>
My guess is that Baz is protective of Agatha. Even if we know now there’s nothing going on between the two of them romantically, Agatha is still Baz’s best friend. I’d bet he’d sooner give up his part in the play than let his rival anywhere near her. <br/>
 <br/>
He raises his eyebrows in question. <br/>
 <br/>
“Everyone has fancied Agatha at one point,” I say.<br/>
 <br/>
“Not everyone.” <br/>
 <br/>
“Well, yeah,” I lean my back against the cold brick house. My phone vibrates in my pocket with a text from Penny asking where I am. I let her know I’m okay before putting it away and saying, “You know everyone used to think you two were a thing.” <br/>
 <br/>
He lets out a soft, quiet chuckle. I feel the shock of hearing his laughter low in my chest. “We knew.” <br/>
 <br/>
“You never wanted to deny the rumours?” <br/>
 <br/>
“There was no point,” he shrugs. “People will believe what they want.”<br/>
 <br/>
“Weird, though,” I say and his eyebrows flicker. “That you and Agatha were seen as an item but Penny and I never were.” <br/>
 <br/>
He sighs heavily, “Bloody hell.” <br/>
 <br/>
“What?” <br/>
 <br/>
“People did think you were together,” he says and I stare back at him blankly. He drops the end of his cigarette and stubs it out with the toe of his shoe. “You really are oblivious.” <br/>
 <br/>
Nobody ever asked me about what me and Penny mean to each other. I wonder if she knows about the rumours. <br/>
 <br/>
“Do you think Shep didn’t ask Penny out all this time because he thought we were together?” <br/>
 <br/>
Baz doesn’t respond. All the odd moments throughout secondary school pass by me; things I never looked into before. <br/>
 <br/>
He meets my gaze after a moment, “Were you and Max a thing?” <br/>
 <br/>
I wonder if the alcohol is affecting his judgement, because he seems to be much more talkative than he would usually be. <br/>
 <br/>
“No,” I answer easily. “He just kissed me.” <br/>
 <br/>
“You kissed back.” <br/>
 <br/>
My neck starts to feel hot. I swallow a big gulp of water.  <br/>
 <br/>
“I didn’t know you were into blokes,” he says, and then, “Are you?”<br/>
 <br/>
Baz came out near the end of year 12. He knew he was gay long before that. Trixie and Keris are certain of their attraction to girls. <br/>
 <br/>
For me, sexuality has always been a big question mark. I’ve never felt particularly connected to any sort of label. I’ve never wanted one. <br/>
 <br/>
So, I shrug. And in the spirit of honesty, I say, “I don’t know.” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>my tumblr: @mountchristen</p><p>chapter 3 is a good one. i'm loving writing it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Lost and Found</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Baz isn't good at asking for help, but he does it anyway.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hellooo. another update! </p><p>i'm busy for the next couple of days so i'm not sure when i'll next be updating the story. but i'll get on with it asap. </p><p>i hope you enjoy this part!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Even though it’s officially Halloween when we get back to school on Monday, nobody dresses up. In the morning’s assembly, the Head of sixth form expresses her disappointment at our lack of enthusiasm. Nobody seems to care though. <br/>
 <br/>
Penny and I arrive early to rehearsals. We sit in the front row; Penny flipping through her script whilst I munch on my sandwich beside her. <br/>
 <br/>
“Shep has offered to drive me home after rehearsals,” Penny says, still looking down at her script. “Is that okay?” <br/>
 <br/>
“Of course,” I say, the words muffled by my sandwich. “How are things going?”<br/>
 <br/>
“We’ve been texting a lot,” she explains. “And I enjoyed the party so much. I think he was going to kiss me at one point but . . . he didn’t.” <br/>
 <br/>
“Maybe he’s nervous.” <br/>
 <br/>
“Maybe.” <br/>
 <br/>
I give her a look, “It did take him, like, four years to ask you out.”<br/>
 <br/>
“Yeah,” she smiles slightly. “I do really like him.” <br/>
 <br/>
The door to the hall slams open and Agatha stands at the entrance, holding her arms out and practically singing, “Penny! Simon!” She makes her way down the aisles, sitting next to me and throwing her bag down. She asks me, “Did you recover from Saturday?” <br/>
 <br/>
I groan, “I don’t usually embarrass myself like that.” <br/>
 <br/>
“Usually he’s sober when he’s being embarrassing,” Penny says with a grin. <br/>
 <br/>
I scowl at her. Agatha says, “It was so <em>fun!</em> We have to get together more often.” <br/>
 <br/>
I can sense Penny’s hesitation mixed with mine. Agatha’s fun to be around, but her friends aren’t as welcoming. And Agatha, Baz, Dev and Niall come as a package. <br/>
 <br/>
Agatha’s wide eyes are waiting for a response. The memory of kissing her makes my fingers twitch. I hope she won’t get the wrong idea when I say, “Yeah, sure.” <br/>
 <br/>
The sound of the door slamming again tears my eyes away from hers. Baz, Dev and Niall are walking up the aisle; Baz is slightly ahead of the other two, sending them a murderous glare. They cackle like a couple of hyenas, clutching their stomachs. <br/>
 <br/>
“What’s happened?” Agatha asks, turning in her seat as the three boys make their way over. <br/>
 <br/>
I take another bite of my sandwich as Niall says, “Baz is really excited for today’s rehearsal.” <br/>
 <br/>
Baz effortlessly elbows Niall in the side. Niall yelps. <br/>
 <br/>
“What’s happening today?” Penny asks from my side. Baz’s eyes slide over me, munching my sandwich, and to Penny. <br/>
 <br/>
It’s Dev who answers: “Kissing scene.” <br/>
 <br/>
I swallow my sandwich, watching Baz’s jaw tense. Finn’s crush has been made even more clear since Agatha’s party, where Finn said Baz was the most attractive person in the room. <br/>
 <br/>
“He’s proper in love with you,” Niall says matter-of-factly. Baz shoots him a look. <br/>
 <br/>
“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Baz,” Agatha says, her voice calm and soothing. “It’s just acting.” <br/>
 <br/>
“Just give the guy what he wants,” Dev says in a teasing tone. He slowly licks his lips, pretending to be sexy, until Baz slaps him with his script. <br/>
 <br/>
“I hate all of you,” Baz says. <br/>
 <br/>
When Miss Possibelf and the rest of the cast enter, Baz’s fears are confirmed. Today, they’re running through the kissing scenes. I remain in my seat whilst the rest of the cast get into position. <br/>
 <br/>
Miss Possibelf instructs Finn and Baz to turn to the scene where they meet and run through it from start to finish. It ends with them kissing. <br/>
 <br/>
From my position at the front of the audience, Baz looks as relaxed as ever. Finn starts off the scene, playing Romeo well. He’s obsessed, and romantic, and intrigued. Baz barely has to look down at the script anymore, reciting every word perfectly. <br/>
 <br/>
I see the moment where tension is supposed to build, but there’s a void. There’s no spark between them, no rising edge to their words. <br/>
 <br/>
They reach the kiss and Finn falters, a flush rising to his cheeks. He stumbles, stepping forward and pressing his lips to Baz’s in hurried excitement. A feeling rises in me, but I push it away. <br/>
 <br/>
When Baz pulls back, he looks down at the floor, sighing. Finn looks like he’s biting back a smile. <br/>
 <br/>
I bring my knees to my chest as Miss Possibelf asks them to try again, giving direction this time. She suggests calming down and leaning in slower. <br/>
 <br/>
They try it. Finn leans in a lot slower. Baz is as confident as ever. When Finn is kissing him, Finn seems much more enthusiastic than he should be. Romeo is supposed to be romantic and charming here, not this energetic. I notice Agatha behind the curtain shaking her head. <br/>
 <br/>
They don’t try again after that. Baz wanders off the stage and Finn goes in the other direction. <br/>
 <br/>
I’m startled by the sound of my own name. Miss Possibelf looks at me, “We need you and Max on the stage.” <br/>
 <br/>
As I’m climbing the steps, I pray that they won’t make us try the kiss scene too. <br/>
 <br/>
Luckily, they don’t. <br/>
 <br/>
We run through the meeting scene though. It’s awkward still, but not quite as uncomfortable as the first time. I fail to get to grips with the character again, my mind wandering to Baz stood on this stage, kissing Finn. <br/>
 <br/>
When the scene finishes, I turn to head off the stage, but Max grabs my arm and says, “Can I talk to you?” <br/>
 <br/>
I nod, surprised, and let him follow me backstage. He plays awkwardly with a piece of string on his jumper and eventually says, “I’m sorry for . . . what happened between us.”<br/>
 <br/>
“You don’t have to apologise,” I say. <br/>
 <br/>
I vividly remember the drunken kiss as he says, “I hope things can go back to normal with us soon. I really am sorry.” <br/>
 <br/>
“I hope so too,” I find myself saying. <br/>
 <br/>
He starts to smile, patting me on the shoulder before wandering down the stairs. I turn after a moment, making eye contact with Baz, who I hadn’t noticed before. He stares back at me impassively. </p><p>-</p><p>At the end of rehearsal, Penny comes over as I’m grabbing my bag. Shep stands slightly behind her, his hands stuffed into his pockets. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Simon,” she says. She gives me a small hug before taking Shep’s arm and heading to the door. <br/>
 <br/>
I turn back to my bag, slinging it over my shoulder and realising I’m the last person to leave. <br/>
 <br/>
Until a voice from behind startles me, “Snow.” I turn and find Baz stood, pursing his lips. He glances at my bag strap before saying, “Will you stay and help me run through a scene?” <br/>
 <br/>
His voice sounds strained, like it’s taking a lot for him to ask for help. <br/>
 <br/>
I’m suspicious. Baz doesn’t ask for help. Certainly not from me. <br/>
 <br/>
He says, “I need help with the lines.” <br/>
 <br/>
I drop my bag onto the floor and take my own script out. He waits until I’m stood straight to wander over to the steps, climbing onto the stage. I follow him, standing at the centre of the stage and facing him dubiously. <br/>
 <br/>
“Which scene?” I ask. <br/>
 <br/>
“The meeting one,” he says in a low voice. <br/>
 <br/>
I flip to the right page, feeling something stirring low in my stomach. The hall is completely empty; nobody’s eyes but Baz’s on me, and yet I feel completely exposed. <br/>
 <br/>
I clear my throat and start the scene, delivering every line wholeheartedly, throwing everything I have into becoming Romeo. Baz’s acting matches mine, his version of Joseph fulfilled perfectly. We respond to each other intensely, our words fierce and consuming, as if we’re fighting. <br/>
 <br/>
But this is better than fighting. <br/>
 <br/>
Tension builds in a way that it hadn’t between Finn and Baz. I can feel it in the goosebumps on my arm, in the heat on the back of my neck. <br/>
 <br/>
I look down at the script, my mouth opening and closing. <br/>
 <br/>
“What does it say?” Baz asks, voice slightly pinched, tension rolling off him. <br/>
 <br/>
“Stage directions,” I say, my mouth feeling dry. <br/>
 <br/>
“And what do they say?” <br/>
 <br/>
My heart hammers in my chest. “Romeo kisses Joseph.” <br/>
 <br/>
It feels as though the air has left the room. Baz eyes me with a challenging gaze. “Go on then,” he says eventually. <br/>
 <br/>
My stare moves to Baz’s mouth and distantly, I realise this isn’t the first time I’ve thought about kissing him. <br/>
 <br/>
I take a step forward, watching his eyebrows quirk in surprise. He’s slightly taller than me and he would look almost completely resigned if it weren’t for his parted lips and the hitch in his breath when my hand slides to the back of his neck. <br/>
 <br/>
My face lingers close to his, watching for any sign that he wants me to stop. And then, when I can’t find one, I press my lips to his. He freezes against me at first, but my fingers thread through the back of his hair and he relaxes, letting out a sigh against my lips. <br/>
 <br/>
I’m shocked by how my body responds to Baz’s lips. My free hand lets the script drop to the floor and gently wraps around his waist, pulling him into me. I hear the sound of paper slapping the stage floor – Baz’s script being dropped alongside mine. He wraps his arms around my neck, responding to my lips. He gasps when I slide my tongue along his bottom lip. Our tongues meet in a passionate flurry of heat and want. <br/>
 <br/>
In the back of my mind, I note that Miss Possibelf definitely only requires a five-second kiss from Romeo and Joseph, but those thoughts leave my mind as soon as Baz licks the roof of my mouth. <br/>
 <br/>
Our kisses are fervent and eager, breathing stuttered. <br/>
 <br/>
Then one of Baz’s hands travels down to my chest and he grips my jumper, pushing me back slightly. My eyes snap open and my stomach swirls at the sight of him. He’s breathing heavily, lips red, eyes dark, his hand against my chest the only sign of self-control. <br/>
 <br/>
My own lips start to quirk upwards and I ask, “Was that helpful?” <br/>
 <br/>
He starts to nod, completely speechless. His eyes are on my mouth, as if he’s considering kissing me again. <br/>
 <br/>
I jump at the sound of his phone ringing. He pushes me further back, trying to create a distance between us and takes his phone out of his pocket. He raises it to his ear and looks at the stage floor. <br/>
 <br/>
Baz listens to someone talking on the other side of the phone, then says, “I’m at school. I know. I’m coming now.” <br/>
 <br/>
He hangs up and pauses for a moment, pushing his hair out of his face. I’m frozen, watching, waiting. He barely even glances in my direction as he walks off the stage, down the steps, grabbing his bag and rushing out the door. <br/>
 <br/>
I stare at our forgotten scripts still on the floor until my heartbeat steadies itself. </p><p>-</p><p>After that, Baz avoids me at all costs. </p><p>The next day, he sits across the room in psychology, head down and hair in his face. I try and fail to catch his eye. I spend so long thinking about him, about yesterday, about the kiss, that I completely miss the lesson. </p><p>At the end, Baz picks up his bag and leaves. He’s one of the first people to go, and I’m one of the last. But I barge through the crowd and touch his elbow, urging him to turn around. </p><p>He does, and there’s fury in his eyes. I don’t say anything, but I hold his script between us. His gaze falls to it, jaw clenching. He rips it from my hands and storms off. </p><p>-</p><p>At Wednesday’s rehearsal, Baz and Finn have to practice the kiss again. <br/>
 <br/>
Baz seems on edge, and Finn seems coy. <br/>
 <br/>
From my seat at the front, I, again, find the moment where the tension should be building. When it was me and Baz, the tension was reeling off in waves, making it hard to breathe. With Finn and Baz, it’s . . . numb. <br/>
 <br/>
When Finn leans in, I notice a flicker of something pass over Baz’s face. He takes a different approach to the kiss, his arms sliding around Finn’s shoulders. Just like how he’d held me. When I kissed him. <br/>
 <br/>
Finn’s slightly taller than I am, but the position of Baz’s arms works. Or, it makes the kiss seem more genuine. Less awkward. <br/>
 <br/>
They pull apart and turn to look at Miss Possibelf. She’s humming, tapping her pen against her chin. Finn’s cheeks are red. Baz looks perfectly composed. <br/>
 <br/>
“Better,” is all Miss Possibelf says. Then she organises a time to meet with just Baz and Finn so they can run through it a few more times to make sure they’re comfortable. <br/>
 <br/>
When everyone starts moving again, reorganising, ready to rehearse a different scene, I notice someone standing beside me. <br/>
 <br/>
I look up at Max, who’s smiling down at me. “Mind if I sit with you?” He asks. I pat the seat beside me and he sits, settling back in the seat. “That was pretty good,” Max says, gesturing to the stage. <br/>
 <br/>
“Yeah, it wasn’t bad,” I say awkwardly. I don’t want to think about Finn kissing Baz. <br/>
 <br/>
I glance up at the stage and notice with a shock that Baz is looking at me, meeting my eyes for the first time today. His grey eyes are burning. He looks . . . pissed off. <br/>
 <br/>
“Shep, can we try a red lighting over this scene?” Miss Possibelf calls up to Shep’s lighting booth. <br/>
 <br/>
A silence falls across the room. Miss Possibelf looks puzzled, twisting around in her chair to look up onto the balcony. <br/>
 <br/>
“Shep?” She calls. <br/>
 <br/>
The thespians stood on the stage are looking up at the booth with a better angle, all smirking and stifling giggles. I stand up for a better view. I can’t help it. As soon as I see Penny and Shep kissing against the controls, I let out a loud, booming laughter that echoes across the hall.</p><p>-</p><p>“All I’m saying is, I don’t think you needed to laugh that hard,” Penny is saying to me on Thursday, the day after rehearsals. We’re sat in one of the study rooms, but Penny keeps talking to me because she’s stuck on a math question that she is too frustrated to figure out. <br/>
 <br/>
“It was . . . unexpected,” I say, looking down at my essay. <br/>
 <br/>
“I was also surprised,” she says. “He texted me, asking me to come up to the booth. Then he just kissed me.”<br/>
 <br/>
She’s blushing, so I ask, “Are you glad he did?” <br/>
 <br/>
“Yes,” she says, then snarls in response to my grin, “Shut up.” <br/>
 <br/>
“I’m happy for you.” <br/>
 <br/>
She grunts and goes back to working out the math problem, twirling her pen through her hair. I try to focus on my essay, but I find my mind is preoccupied. <br/>
 <br/>
If the ridiculous school play and Baz’s cold shoulder wasn’t enough, I was forced into a meeting this morning to talk about my future. We’re supposed to have mapped out the next few years of our life by now. What degree we want to take, what university we want to attend. It’s too much pressure. I can’t think. <br/>
 <br/>
The sound of voices from the room next door brings me back to reality. Penny doesn’t look up from her homework, but I start listening intently. I can distinctly pick out Baz’s voice, and that means the other two must be Dev and Niall. <br/>
 <br/>
“It’s fucking embarrassing,” Baz is saying. One of the other two is sniggering. Baz lets out a groan, “I mean, seriously. He doesn’t even take Drama. It’s a joke.” <br/>
 <br/>
“Did you see him on stage with Max?” Another voice says. I think it’s Dev. “The guy had no emotion. He just stuttered through the lines.” <br/>
 <br/>
“Surely you can find a way to get rid of him,” Niall says. His voice is slightly more pitchy than the other two. <br/>
 <br/>
Baz hums. I stand up and push my seat back. Penny asks, “Where are you going?” but I shake my head and hold a finger to my lips. She starts listening to them too. <br/>
 <br/>
Baz says, “I need this play to go well. I’ll ruin him if he messes it up.” <br/>
 <br/>
Penny’s eyes widen. I make my way towards the door, waiting outside the room next door to catch anything else they say. <br/>
 <br/>
“It might be the worst acting I’ve ever seen,” Niall says. <br/>
 <br/>
I open the door then, pushing it until it hits the wall behind, right as Baz says, “I’d have to agree with that.” <br/>
 <br/>
He’s got his back to me, his shoulders back and arms folded over his chest. Dev and Niall are sat facing him, their mouths falling open when they see me. At the sound of the door, Baz glances over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing when he sees me. <br/>
 <br/>
“Got anything else to say?” I ask, stepping into the room, standing my ground. <br/>
 <br/>
Baz turns and raises his eyebrows, “We’re just remarking on your terrible acting.” <br/>
 <br/>
“I know,” I say, gritting my teeth. “I heard.” <br/>
 <br/>
“Nothing but the truth,” he says spitefully. <br/>
 <br/>
His words drive down right to my chest and clench, painfully. I’ve never felt any sort of feelings towards my acting abilities. I’ve always been indifferent. But hearing Baz’s harsh opinion now – it hurts. <br/>
 <br/>
“Okay,” I say, letting out a sigh, calming myself down. Baz watches suspiciously and waits, as if he expects me to pounce at any moment. Politely, I ask, “When was I bad at acting?”<br/>
 <br/>
“What?” He seems taken back by my question.<br/>
 <br/>
“I can take constructive criticism,” I say, shrugging. “So, I’m asking, when was I bad at acting?” I take another step further into the room. Baz is silent, so I prompt him, “Was it the first time I had to get on stage with Max? Was it when I was made to ‘test chemistry’ with you? Or was it . . . Monday after school?” <br/>
 <br/>
I rock back on my heels, watching as realisation dawns upon him and his face starts to turn pink. He’s frozen, staring at me with a glare that could kill. <br/>
 <br/>
I’m daring him. I’m challenging him, wondering what lengths he would go to in order to keep Monday between us. The memory flashes over his eyes and I don’t miss the way he glances at my mouth. <br/>
 <br/>
I can’t help it. I start to grin, my mouth twisting up into a winning smile. <br/>
 <br/>
And that infuriates him.<br/>
 <br/>
In seconds, he’s in my face, gripping my jumper to shove me against the wall. He’s practically seething, eyes burning into mine. Then he pushes me, my back hitting the wall hard. <br/>
 <br/>
He turns his back on me, which is a mistake, because I shove him. He stumbles forward, then swivels around and twists my jumper into his fist again. I watch, wide-eyed, as his anger starts to ripple through the room. <br/>
 <br/>
Dev steps forward hesitantly, “Baz?” But Baz isn’t listening. He’s focused wholly on me, his cheeks still rosy, his eyes hardening.<br/>
 <br/>
Baz lets me go eventually, when the Head of Sixth Form turns up at the door and demands that we both stop what we’re doing. Baz lets out a breath and I watch him dubiously from my spot against the wall. <br/>
 <br/>
The Head of Sixth Form demands that we both miss practice tomorrow and as punishment, we must instead sort through the array of lost and found items.  <br/>
 <br/>
“We do not tolerate squabbling at this school,” she announces. </p><p>-</p><p>On Friday afternoon, Penny walks with me across the school. She starts to split off from me when we reach the hall, wishing me good luck. She hurries off down the path, disappearing into the building for rehearsals. <br/>
 <br/>
When I reach the building, Baz is already inside, sat back in a chair with his arms folded. He barely glances at me as I come in, clenching his teeth together. <br/>
 <br/>
I sit in the only other chair in the small, confined room. I’ve only been in this room a few times – whenever I forgot my PE kit and had to wear something from lost and found. There’s two chairs, a desk in the corner of the room and a collection of boxes, all filled with people’s forgotten possessions. <br/>
 <br/>
The Head of Sixth Form appears in the doorway. She sighs, “You’re finally here,” and then tells us, “Sort through those boxes. Order it into what’s worth keeping and what’s not.” <br/>
 <br/>
“How are we supposed to know that?” I ask. <br/>
 <br/>
“We need to keep the useful things, so PE kits, stationary or if they seem important, like somebody’s keys or wallet. Got it?” <br/>
 <br/>
Baz doesn’t move, but I nod and watch her move past the door. <br/>
 <br/>
The minutes pass by achingly slowly. Baz doesn’t acknowledge me, but he leans forward in his chair and starts throwing things around, supposedly separating things into piles. When he grabs a pile of sportswear in his hands and tosses it to the side, I figure that must be the ‘worth keeping’ pile. <br/>
 <br/>
When the collection begins to thin, Baz huffs and sits back in his chair. I carry on stifling through everything, throwing forgotten toys into a box. <br/>
 <br/>
Baz is holding someone’s workbook in his hands. The sound of ripping pages makes me snap my head towards him. He’s staring into space, in his own world, so I look away again. Even after hearing the sound of paper being crumpled in his fist, I’m still startled when he throws the paper ball at my head. I stare at him in disbelief but he just smirks. <br/>
 <br/>
When the lost and found pile has officially been sorted, I take out my script and settle it into my lap. Baz huffs out a laugh, watching me trace the lines with my finger. <br/>
 <br/>
“What?” I say, disturbing the silence around us. “Is it <em>embarrassing</em> to see me trying to learn my lines?” I repeat the words he used yesterday. He shakes his head slowly, as if he can’t believe what I’m saying. <br/>
 <br/>
“You can’t seriously have taken that to heart,” he says coldly. <br/>
 <br/>
“Did I take to heart somebody saying I’m a joke? Hmm, let me think about that one.” <br/>
 <br/>
“I didn’t say <em>you’re</em> a joke,” he mutters. <br/>
 <br/>
“You didn’t need to.” I lift my chin when he glances at me. “You said enough.” <br/>
 <br/>
He arches an eyebrow, “You don’t even like being an understudy.” <br/>
 <br/>
“Doesn’t mean I’m not trying,” I mumble, but he hears perfectly. <br/>
 <br/>
He seems surprised, leaning back and stretching his long legs out. He gazes at me, refusing to be the first to look away. I gulp, looking back down at my script. <br/>
 <br/>
The Head of Sixth Form’s presence at the door makes me jump. She asks, “Are you done?” <br/>
 <br/>
Baz points at one pile and says, “Worth keeping,” and then the other, “Not worth keeping.” <br/>
 <br/>
“Great. You can go,” she says. “And I don’t want to hear anything more about you two fighting. You’re both adults this year. No more squabbling.” <br/>
 <br/>
Baz scowls at the floor, so I nod awkwardly. She walks away and Baz scoops up his bag, rushing towards the door and out of the building. I take my time putting my script in my bag and wandering out to the car park. <br/>
 <br/>
It has started to rain. Light, little drops of water quickly descend into plummeting rainfall. </p><p>Baz’s car is still there. I put up the hood on my jacket and jog to my car. I let out a breath of relief, starting the car and – </p><p>It doesn’t start. I try again, and nothing happens. I let my head fall hard against the steering wheel, jerking back when my horn beeps loudly. I try once more, thinking third time lucky. And the car doesn’t start. </p><p>I grab my bag, jumping out of my car and back into the hammering rain. The water soaks straight through my jacket as I rush across the car park. The sound of another car horn makes me freeze. </p><p>Snapping my head over, I see Baz leaning slightly out of his car window, squinting his eyes at me. “What the fuck are you doing, Snow?” He says, gesturing to the sky, “Not exactly the weather for a nice walk home.” </p><p>“My car won’t start,” I say glumly. </p><p>“Oh,” he says. “Carry on then.” </p><p>I start striding out of the carpark and up the long driveway of school. Drops of cold, uncomfortable rain run down my face. </p><p>The sound of a car accelerating behind me breaks me out of my trance, leaping out of the way just in time for Baz to pull up beside me. </p><p>“Are you <em>crazy</em>?” I shout over the rain. </p><p>He grits his teeth, “Get in the car.” </p><p>“I don’t plan on dying today.” </p><p>Rolling his eyes, he leans over and unlocks the passenger seat door, “I’m not going to kill you.” </p><p>“I’m not sure I believe that.” </p><p>“Snow,” he says, annoyed. I walk around the car, throwing my bag in first and hopping in after. The car is much warmer, much more comfortable than the rain outside. Baz says, “There are cameras in the school, anyway. Everyone would know it was me.” </p><p>I glare at him but don’t say anything. He stops at the front gate of school and reaches into the backseat, pulling forward a thick jumper and dumping it on my lap. </p><p>“What’s this?” </p><p>“A <em>jumper</em>,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief. He turns into the road, keeping his hands on the steering wheel. “You’re soaked. Wear it or don’t. I don’t care.” </p><p>I stare at it for a few more moments before peeling my wet jacket off, letting it drop to my feet. I pull the jumper over my t-shirt, which is only slightly damp. It’s warm, and smells of something distinctly familiar. </p><p>I catch Baz watching me out of the corner of his eye. His grip tightens on the steering wheel. </p><p>After a few minutes of tense silence, he asks for directions towards my house. He seems to know the general area, or at least that it’s on the other side of town to his. For the rest of the drive, my voice, directing Baz this way and that, is the only sound filling the car. </p><p>He pulls up on my driveway, where Ebb’s car would be if she were home. He doesn’t turn to look at me, but he puts his elbows on the steering wheel and stares determinedly at my garage door. </p><p>As I go to get out, he snarls, “You’re welcome.” </p><p>And those two words make me snap. I retort, “I wouldn’t’ve even had detention if it weren’t for you. This,” I gesture between us, “is on you.” </p><p>“We wouldn’t have gotten detention if you’d just kept your mouth shut.” </p><p>“Do you really think I’m going to just sit there whilst you insult me to your friends?” </p><p>“I didn’t expect you to <em>care</em> what I had to say,” he growls, his voice taking over the sound of rain hammering against the car windows.</p><p>I clench my teeth, willing myself not to respond. I grab my bag and my soggy jacket and jump out of the car, back into the pounding rainfall. </p><p>As I’m fumbling for my keys, what I don’t expect is to hear Baz’s car door being slammed closed. He comes marching over, fury and frustration settling behind his eyes. </p><p>“Fuck off!” I shout over the rain before he reaches me. </p><p>He doesn’t falter. When he stands close enough, he says, “Why do you care all of a sudden? You don’t give a fuck about this play. Why does it matter what I have to say?” </p><p>His hair immediately starts to dampen; he pushes it out of his face. Rainwater runs down the side of his face, past his striking eyes, over his flushed cheeks, along the curve of his lips, to the sharp line of his jaw. I realise with a sudden jolt that I want to follow that path with my mouth. </p><p>“Because!” I yell. </p><p>He narrows his eyes, “That’s not an answer.” </p><p>“Because,” I say, quieter now. My voice is almost drowned out by the pelting rain smacking against the ground. “You kissed me.” </p><p>I almost miss the shift in his expression as soon as the words are out. It’s only slight – the way he stiffens, the way his jaw clenches. </p><p>“<em>You</em> kissed <em>me</em>,” he responds. </p><p>“You asked me to.”</p><p>He gulps. Another raindrop rolls over his Adam’s apple. “For the play,” he says. </p><p>I let out a laugh.<em> For the play</em>. It’s a quick, bitter, bubble of laughter. <em>For the play</em>. He stares back. </p><p>“Just for the play,” I mutter, nodding, understanding. I turn around and start trying to find my keys again, determined to get away from this whole situation. Determined to get away from him. </p><p>Baz has other plans. </p><p>I feel my back being pushed against my front door, under the canopy, shielded from the rain. I feel his body moving closer, one hand sliding to the back of my neck. I feel his lips on mine, sudden, unexpected, appreciated. </p><p>I let out a surprised sound, feeling the moment his hand on the back of my neck freezes against my skin. He starts to pull away from me, moving back only slightly. My eyes flutter open until I’m meeting Baz’s hooded stare, feeling his breath against my lips. </p><p>I press my mouth to his again. He hums a compliant sound. </p><p>It’s as good as the first time I kissed him. Better, even, because there’s no excuse anymore. This isn’t <em>for a play</em>. This is for us. </p><p>He lets me kiss him harder. I tilt my head to the side, using the angle to pry his lips open, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses against his mouth. He’s breathing heavily through his nose, fingers tangling in my wet curls. </p><p>My own hands move to his waist, holding him like I’d seen him grip the steering wheel. Like a lifeline, like a last hold on reality. He closes the remaining space between us, leaning his body completely against mine, the front door holding us both up. </p><p>Something seems to click, all of a sudden. Baz seems to realise what we’re doing. I’m still lost, floating in a moment of pure satisfaction. </p><p>And then he pulls back from me, putting his hands by his sides and taking a big step back. My eyes snap open to find him staring at the ground, pulling his hair back. </p><p>He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t look at me. He jumps into his car and reverses out of my driveway. </p><p>I finally unlock the door, rushing out of the pouring rain and into the warmth of my house. Up in my bedroom, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. Staring back at me is one very confused, very frustrated boy. And he’s still wearing Baz’s jumper. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>tumblr: @mountchristen</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Milkshake Fries</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Baz tries to avoid Simon, but it doesn't exactly go to plan.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Simon is a snarky bastard and I love it. </p><p>This is kind of bad but here ya go. </p><p>I won't be able to write for a few days. Hopefully I can update later in the week. </p><p>Be prepared for cringey conversations about kissing.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Now that my car is away getting fixed, I’m walking to school every morning. Getting up earlier than usual is a pain, but at least I’m not grumbling about it as much as Penny is. Some mornings, when Shep isn’t running late, he comes from the other side of town to pick us up. Other mornings, we wrap up warm and face the treacherous walk. <br/>
 <br/>
At least this time, when I get to school on Monday and Baz is giving me the silent treatment, I’m not so surprised. The blank expression on his face before he hopped in his car was enough to tell me we wouldn’t be talking again anytime soon. <br/>
 <br/>
Rehearsals on Monday are especially awkward. At the beginning, me, Penny, Agatha and Baz are the only ones in the hall. The conversation runs smoother when Dev and Niall come bursting in, arguing about absolute nonsense. At least it lightens the tense mood. <br/>
 <br/>
When Penny nudges me and asks why I’m being so quiet, I can’t seem to conjure up an answer. I feel a pair of eyes burning into the side of my face, but when I turn my head, Baz is just staring at the stage. </p><p>-</p><p>On Tuesday, Baz is already in our psychology classroom when I arrive. He’s sat at the desk next to my usual seat. His head is down, his long hair hiding most of his face, but the rigid set of his shoulders gives away that he knows I’m here. <br/>
 <br/>
I throw my bag under the desk and sit down loudly, tossing my pencil case onto the table. He still doesn’t look up from his worksheet. <br/>
 <br/>
The instructions for the first part of the lesson are written on the whiteboard. I take the first worksheet from my desk and start scribbling some answers. I’m not a whiz at psychology. Not like Baz. But I like the subject. I like learning about how people’s minds work. Why we act the way we do. <br/>
 <br/>
Time is running out for me to decide my future career path. I have a whole personal statement to write. A personal statement, outlining all my desirable qualities, when I don’t even know what it is I want to do in life. It’s pathetic. <br/>
 <br/>
Baz’s voice startles me, though he only points at the second pile of sheets on my desk and mutters, “Can you pass me a worksheet?” His voice sounds cold, detached. <br/>
 <br/>
I glance at the worksheet and then at his face. His gaze is pointedly on my desk, refusing to look at me. <br/>
 <br/>
In a stony tone, I retort, “Oh? So we’re talking now?” <br/>
 <br/>
He grumbles under his breath, rolling his eyes, then saying louder, “Don’t be a child.” <br/>
 <br/>
“Me? A child? You’re the one pretending I don’t exist anymore.” <br/>
 <br/>
He sits back in his chair and runs a hand down his face, exasperated. But I’m not done. I need answers. <br/>
 <br/>
So I ask, “Is that it then? Are we just never going to speak again?” <br/>
 <br/>
“We’re not <em>friends</em>, Snow,” he says. His voice is low, trying not to draw attention, but it doesn’t lack it’s usual edge of spite. “It’s no loss.” <br/>
 <br/>
I furrow my eyebrows, “That’s weird.” <br/>
 <br/>
“What?” He snaps. <br/>
 <br/>
“Weird,” I parrot. “You weren’t acting like we were <em>not friends</em> last Friday.” </p><p>He starts to flush. I see it rise from the crook of his neck and up, slowly painting his face a rather fantastic pink. I wonder if the memories are rushing back to him too – a cloudy recollection of the feel of his lips on mine. </p><p>I smirk, despite myself, reaching for a worksheet and sliding it across the two desks to him, “You’re sending pretty mixed signals, Baz.” </p><p>He glares determinedly at the desk in front of him. No matter how hard he clenches his jaw, the pink of his cheeks doesn’t disappear for the remainder of the lesson. When our psychology teacher eventually dismisses us, he picks up his bag and bolts from the classroom. </p><p>-</p><p>At Wednesday’s rehearsal, Baz is still set on ignoring me. Even when the six of us – myself, Penny, Agatha, Dev, Niall and Baz – take a break from practice to sit as a group in the audience, he manages to avoid my gaze. <br/>
 <br/>
Penny and I are sat in the front row of the audience, twisting around in our seats to face the other four. Baz is pretending to be doing something more interesting on his phone. Oddly enough, somewhere between our rehearsals and the tether that Agatha has created between both groups of friends, Dev and Niall seem to have found themselves enjoying mine and Penny’s company. <br/>
 <br/>
“So . . .” Agatha starts saying. She’s got a mischievous glint in her eyes, which can’t mean anything good. She twists her mouth into a smirk, directed at Penny, and says, “You and Shep, huh?” <br/>
 <br/>
She points at the lighting booth on the balcony, and Penny’s cheeks turn a violent red at the memory of being caught kissing there. <br/>
 <br/>
“You’re blushing,” Agatha coos. “Do you really like him?” <br/>
 <br/>
“Yes,” Penny says, her cheeks not paling in the slightest. <br/>
 <br/>
“Past few years, he wouldn’t stop talking about how much he likes you,” Niall says. Niall’s love for school gossip might actually exceed Agatha’s. <br/>
 <br/>
I take a sip of water as Agatha whispers, “Is he a good kisser?” <br/>
 <br/>
I almost choke on my drink. Penny pats my back helpfully and says, “Really good,” though she still looks embarrassed. <br/>
 <br/>
Dev groans at the conversation from where he’s flicking through his script. Baz barely even rolls his eyes. Niall just looks happy to be here. <br/>
 <br/>
Agatha ignores her friends and says excitedly, “Oh, I do love when boys are good kissers.” <br/>
 <br/>
My eyes drag across unconsciously towards the stage, where I stood when Baz told me to kiss him. <em>Go on then</em>, he’d said. The memory makes my heartrate speed up and I glance back at the group I’m with, only to find Baz watching me with narrowed eyes. I nervously wonder if he can hear my pulse quickening. <br/>
 <br/>
<em>Yeah. Apparently I also like it when boys are good kissers.</em> <br/>
 <br/>
Baz’s eyes are unblinking and sceptical. I only manage to tear my eyes away when I hear Agatha say, “Like Simon.” <br/>
 <br/>
“What’s that?” <br/>
 <br/>
Agatha grins, “You were a good kisser.” <br/>
 <br/>
<em>Oh. The Halloween party. The dare. The conversation on the front porch. </em><br/>
 <br/>
I touch the back of my neck, feeling hot all of a sudden. They’re waiting for a response. Anything. Niall eager for some gossip, Dev staring with furrowed eyebrows, Penny looking for a better reaction, Agatha smiling bashfully. <br/>
 <br/>
And Baz. With his tensed jaw and angry eyes, giving away more than he realises. <br/>
 <br/>
As much as he pretends not to be, right now, it’s obvious. He’s irritated by her words. <br/>
 <br/>
“Thanks, Agatha,” I say, keeping my eyes solely on her. She tucks her hair behind her ear. I choose my words delicately, “I wonder what other people I’ve kissed would say.” <br/>
 <br/>
Baz doesn’t move an inch, and I don’t glance in his direction, but I can feel the anger rolling off of him in waves, like the sea crashing into the shore. <br/>
 <br/>
I don’t think Agatha realises she’s doing it but she looks across the audience at Max, who she saw kiss me at that party last year. Baz must see it happen because his frustration only increases. He looks down at his phone, clenching it in his hand and attempting to act completely indifferent. <br/>
 <br/>
Dev asks, “Oh? Is the list very long, Simon?” <br/>
 <br/>
Weeks ago, I would’ve thought Dev’s question was a piss take – him and his two best friends trying to rile me up. But now, his question seems sincere. He looks curious. <br/>
 <br/>
I let out a chuckle. It’s not long at all. My first kiss was in year 7, at the Christmas fair, hidden under a table in the school canteen. There were a few more cringeworthy moments in secondary school, and then a childish holiday romance in year 10. Then Max, then Agatha. And now Baz. <br/>
 <br/>
“Simon was a real lady’s man in secondary school,” Penny says in a teasing tone. Niall and Agatha both make various ‘oooo’-ing sounds and Dev lets out an impressively loud wolf whistle, drawing the attention of other people in the hall. <br/>
 <br/>
“Okay, okay, I’ve got a question,” Agatha starts saying. She glances at each of us individually and then asks, “Who was your best kiss? Penny, you first.” <br/>
 <br/>
Penny says with a newfound confidence, “Shep.” She only starts to blush once the name is out there. <br/>
 <br/>
Dev says, “Megan West,” with a nonchalant shrug. <br/>
 <br/>
“Is she the girl who moved schools in year 10?” Penny asks and when Dev nods, she says, “Do you think it was because of your kiss?” <br/>
 <br/>
Everyone chuckles at that. Then Agatha says, “Okay, Simon, who’s yours?” <br/>
 <br/>
I let my eyes settle onto each of the five people sitting around me, but my gaze lingers for longer on Baz. He’s staring back with a cold expression on his face, but I know he can read my answer, plain as day. <br/>
 <br/>
<em>Of course</em> it’s him. I can’t seem to get the memory out of my head. Once, on the same stage just a distance away from me now, with his arms wrapped loosely around my shoulders. Twice, outside my house, my back pressed against the door with the rain hammering onto the ground. Both times, wondering what I’ll do when it eventually has to end. <br/>
 <br/>
I want a third time. And a fourth. And a fifth. But he’s looking at me like he’s never seen my face before in his life, so I can hardly expect he will let me kiss him again. <br/>
 <br/>
“I’m not sure,” I say instead, although the name is right there on the end of my tongue. “Who’s yours, Baz?” <br/>
 <br/>
The attention I’ve drawn to him increases his anger. He purses his lips and waits a moment before starting to respond.<br/>
 <br/>
Only, he’s cut off by Miss Possibelf’s loud, echoing voice across the hall: “I need Mercutio, Tybalt, Romeo and Benvolio on stage for the beginning of Act 3.” <br/>
 <br/>
As everyone begins to move, I twist in my seat to face the stage again. I’m shocked when I feel a hand touching my shoulder softly, just enough to make me turn my head again. <br/>
 <br/>
Baz’s face is a lot closer to mine than I expected, and I can’t seem to halt the subconscious way my eyes study his face. He notices, but only says, “Follow me in a minute.” <br/>
 <br/>
Then he stands up straight, pulling his head away, and walking to the steps by the stage. I watch the lean muscles of his back through his shirt, keeping my eyes firmly on him until he disappears somewhere. <br/>
 <br/>
Then I count to sixty. With every increasing number, my body becomes more and more eager to race after him. At fifty-two, I stand up, pretend to stretch, and do a terrible job of casually wandering towards the steps. <br/>
 <br/>
Instead of walking directly up them, which would lead me backstage, I assume Baz has gone somewhere more private, so I clamber under the stage instead, where the boy’s changing rooms are. <br/>
 <br/>
When I push the door open, I find him sat there on one of the benches with one leg crossed over the other. His head snaps up at me and there’s a fire behind his eyes – the anger and frustration from the conversation with his friends beginning to spread. <br/>
 <br/>
I close the door behind me, leaning my weight into it. And I stay there, across the room, waiting patiently as Baz stands up and storms towards me. <br/>
 <br/>
“You need to fucking stop it,” he practically growls. He’s stood close to me now, tension rolling off of him. The difference in our height is blatantly obvious from this angle, with me slouching against the door and him towering viciously over me. <br/>
 <br/>
I glance down at his forefinger, which is poking into my chest, and back up to his face, “Stop what?” <br/>
 <br/>
He pushes the finger harder against my chest and snarls, “You know what.” I feign innocence, puckering my bottom lip and searching the dingy changing room, as if I’ll find the answers there. His eyes flash quickly towards my mouth and back up again. <br/>
 <br/>
I say, “Tell me.” <br/>
 <br/>
His teeth clench, but he does anyway: “You’re messing with me. Talking about kissing and giving me that stupid look.” <br/>
 <br/>
“What look?” <br/>
 <br/>
“You’re doing it right now.” <br/>
 <br/>
My lips start to quirk, “What am I doing?” <br/>
 <br/>
“Shut up,” he snaps. His finger stops pointing at my chest, and instead he splays his hand there. <br/>
 <br/>
“Listen, Baz,” I start to say, my voice calm and collected. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m not trying to mess with you. And if you think I am, it’s not my problem.” <br/>
 <br/>
His eyes are stern and unrelenting, searching my own. He glances at my nose and the moles littering my cheeks and eventually he finds refuge on my lips. His hand grips my t-shirt, fist tightening in the material and he says lowly, “Kiss me.” <br/>
 <br/>
I let out a sharp breath, nearly knocked back by his words if it weren’t for the door behind me and his hand holding my t-shirt. His expression doesn’t change; instead, he watches with a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes as I grasp at his request.<br/>
 <br/>
I reach forward, wrapping both of my arms around his waist and pulling him towards me. He steps closer, falling against my chest and blinking slowly down at me, waiting with an air of impatience. <br/>
 <br/>
Our faces are close now, close enough for me to nudge my nose against his. He lets out a sigh against my lips, but it isn’t until I kiss him on the mouth that the tension starts to disappear from his body. With my eyes fluttering closed, I still feel the moment he lets go and becomes pliant against me. <br/>
 <br/>
The kiss is soft. Softer than the other two, which were fuelled by a new and surprising heat. Now I lean into him and take his lips apart slowly, leisurely, trying to remember every second of feeling him this close to me. And the best part is that he lets me – he lets me spend careful time teasing his lips open and slipping my tongue into his mouth, eliciting deep, involuntary noises from him. <br/>
 <br/>
Against his mouth, I mutter, “Any particular thoughts on my kissing abilities? Am I as good as they all say?” <br/>
 <br/>
He grunts in annoyance, sliding one hand to the back of my head, into my hair, and pushing our lips together again. This time, our kisses immediately turn hot and open-mouthed. He’s pulling on my hair and I’m tightening my grip around his waist, wondering how it might feel to lift him off the ground completely. I can’t tell whether the appreciative sound in the quiet of the boy’s changing room is coming from me or him. <br/>
 <br/>
When he finally pulls his head back, I release the strong hold I have on him in case he decides to run again. But he doesn’t move far, keeping our heads only inches apart and breathing heavily, our chests both heaving at a similar pace, trying to catch our breaths. <br/>
 <br/>
His eyes are darker than before, in a way that makes the pit of my stomach stir. In a quiet voice, I say, “I think we should talk about this.” <br/>
 <br/>
He waits a moment before pushing a hand against my chest and moving further away from me. The stupid part of my brain demands that I pull him right back. But I fold my arms over my chest and school an expression of self-control onto my face. <br/>
 <br/>
Baz lets out a heavy sigh and says, “Fine. Meet me at my car after rehearsal. Wait until everyone’s gone.” <br/>
 <br/>
He hesitates before moving to the door and leaving. <br/>
 <br/>
As hard as I try, for the rest of practice, I can’t seem to take my eyes off of him. </p><p>-</p><p>At the end of rehearsals, Penny and Shep are holding hands as they walk over to me. Shep offers me a lift home and, for somebody who is an understudy in the school’s play, with a possibility of playing Romeo, I do a terrible job at acting. <br/>
 <br/>
“No, thanks. I – uh, need the walk.” <br/>
 <br/>
Penny furrows her eyebrows, “Need the walk?” <br/>
 <br/>
“The exercise,” I clarify poorly. “Been eating too many scones recently.” <br/>
 <br/>
Penny gives me a strange look but accepts my excuse anyway. Once her and Shep leave, I’m the last person left in the hall. I grab my bag and my coat and rush out to the carpark. <br/>
 <br/>
Baz is already sat in the driver’s seat. He waits for me to clamber into the car before reversing out of the carpark and towards the front gate. <br/>
 <br/>
“What did you say to Bunce?” He asks coolly, as if he doesn’t really care. <br/>
 <br/>
“That I needed to walk, for exercise,” I say and he scoffs. <br/>
 <br/>
“How did you get the part of Romeo?” He mutters. <br/>
 <br/>
“<em>Understudy</em>,” I say. “I won’t actually have to do anything.” <br/>
 <br/>
He raises his eyebrows but doesn’t argue, keeping his eyes firmly on the road in front. </p><p>When he doesn’t take the usual turning towards my side of town, I ask, “Are you actually going to kill me this time?” </p><p>He rolls his eyes, “Not unless you keep tempting me to.” </p><p>I turn and rest the side of my head against the window, watching the town pass us by. “Where are we really going?” </p><p>He doesn’t answer. But he doesn’t need to, because soon enough he’s pulling into a McDonald’s drive-thru. “Hungry?” He asks, joining the short queue. He glances over at me and his mouth almost twists into a smile when he sees the eager expression on my face. “What do you want?” </p><p>“Fries?” I say uncertainly. He nods, so I add, “And a milkshake. Banana.” </p><p>“Gross,” he says. “But okay.” I sit back contently in the passenger’s seat as he leans out of the window, shouting our order at the speaker. He gets fries for himself too, and a coffee. </p><p>“Thank you,” I say when he pulls the window back up and drives on. When he doesn’t say anything, I add, “I didn’t know you could be kind. It’s very disorienting.” </p><p>His lips do quirk at that, though he looks quickly at the side window to avoid me seeing it. “Why else do you think Wellbelove keeps me around?” </p><p>“I don’t know,” I shrug. “Your good looks, probably.” </p><p>He actually lets out a laugh. It’s unpredicted, and loud, and it brings a light feeling to my chest. </p><p>When we have the food, Baz drives us out and back onto the main road. I hold the paper bag on my lap, waiting for him to park somewhere. He pulls up at a cricket field, in the carpark which is otherwise empty. </p><p>I hand him the drinks, which he puts in the drinks holder before accepting his fries. I start eating my own immediately, putting three at a time in my mouth. He watches out of the corner of his eye, not with disgust, but amusement. He eats his own much more delicately. </p><p>I take a sip of my milkshake and he says, “You’re not one of those people who dips the fries in a milkshake, are you?” </p><p>“No, but now you say that . . .” He starts making loud sounds of protest when I take the lid off the milkshake and dip one of my fries inside. He looks utterly broken when I put the fry in my mouth, munching on it. “It’s not <em>awful</em>,” I say with my mouth still full. <br/>
 <br/>
“I should order you out of my car,” he says. <br/>
 <br/>
“But you won’t.” <br/>
 <br/>
He doesn’t meet my gaze. “You would eat anything.” <br/>
 <br/>
I shrug, “Probably.” <br/>
 <br/>
I finish my fries way before him, so I sit back against the seat, sipping at my milkshake and waiting for him. He regretfully wipes his hands against his trousers, taking a sip of his coffee. <br/>
 <br/>
“Baz,” I say softly, urging him to look at me. <br/>
 <br/>
He does, and then immediately points his gaze at my t-shirt instead, gulping. “Don’t look at me like that,” he says.<br/>
 <br/>
“This is just my face.” <br/>
 <br/>
He takes a deep breath, inhaling through his nose and then admits, “That’s the problem.” <br/>
 <br/>
My heartbeat stutters. I ask, “Why did you kiss me?” <br/>
 <br/>
“Why did you kiss back?” He challenges me, narrowing his eyes, staring into my own. <br/>
 <br/>
“I wanted to.” <br/>
 <br/>
“Okay.” <br/>
 <br/>
“I like kissing you,” I say. His stormy eyes soften around the edges, and it’s a marvellous thing to witness. He searches my face, looking for an answer. <br/>
 <br/>
“Why?” <br/>
 <br/>
“I’ve never felt like that kissing someone before.” <br/>
 <br/>
The truth is out. Hanging in the air before us. He takes it in, chews on it, and swallows, his usually-pale cheeks dusting with pink. “You shouldn’t say things like that,” he breathes. <br/>
 <br/>
“It’s the truth.” <br/>
 <br/>
He doesn’t have a response to that. Witty, undefeated Baz loses his voice, and so he leans across the car and presses his lips to mine instead. <br/>
 <br/>
I press back, kissing soft, longing kisses against his mouth. When he compliantly opens his lips to mine, he tastes like salty fries and coffee. His long, dark hair falls against my nose so I carefully push it back, tucking it behind his ear. <br/>
 <br/>
Baz eventually breaks the kiss, quickly sitting back against the driver’s seat and letting out a sigh. He starts the car, wordlessly pulling out of the carpark and heading towards my side of town. <br/>
 <br/>
His phone is sitting in one of the cupholders, so I pick it up and ask for his password. He looks dubious, but tells me it anyway. I type my number into his contacts, call myself ‘Snow’ and then put it back. <br/>
 <br/>
“I’ll have to change my password now,” he says. <br/>
 <br/>
“What are you hiding?” <br/>
 <br/>
“I’ve got a list in my notes called ‘Ways to Kill Simon Snow’.” <br/>
 <br/>
“Now this I’ve got to see,” I say, chuckling, reaching for the phone again. He swats my hands away quickly. <br/>
 <br/>
When he eventually stops outside my house, parking on the curb instead of my driveway, he keeps one hand on the steering wheel but turns to the side slightly. <br/>
 <br/>
“Thank you,” I say awkwardly, reaching for my bag and coat at my feet. “For the food. And everything.” <br/>
 <br/>
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says. It’s not much, but there’s a glint in his eyes that looks to me like a promise. <br/>
 <br/>
That’s why I lean across the two seats and press a kiss to his lips. It’s short and sweet. Just my mouth pressed to his. But there’s something more to it. Something affectionate, and hopeful, and real. When I pull away, he’s got a blush on his cheeks.<br/>
 <br/>
I can’t hide my smile as I slip out of the car, watching the car accelerate up the road. <br/>
 <br/>
Feelings of stupid happiness crowd my mind. I cannot seem to conjure a single reason why this isn’t a good idea. </p><p>-</p><p>On Thursday, I didn’t really get an opportunity to see Baz. We don’t have any other classes together, and there was no rehearsal after school. I did pass him in one of the hallways, whilst he was in the middle of a conversation with Niall. When he caught my eye, his lips immediately began to twitch into a smirk. <br/>
 <br/>
It’s Friday. Friday’s a good day, because I have psychology, and rehearsals, which are two big opportunities to see Baz. <br/>
 <br/>
I shake that thought out of my head as I sit down in my usual seat in psychology class. Baz comes in only seconds later, pushing his hair out of his face as he makes his way over to the desk next to mine. <br/>
 <br/>
“You’ll need to be in pairs for this lesson so make sure you’re sat next to someone,” the teacher announces. Baz, halfway to his seat, hesitates and looks at me out of the corner of his eye. <br/>
 <br/>
I pull out the chair next to mine as a silent invitation. He sits down on it, pushing his bag under the desk and lacing his fingers together in front of him. When we are instructed to create a set of quiz questions for our current topic, Baz starts scribbling on his notepad straight away. <br/>
 <br/>
We have to exchange quiz questions. I try answering Baz’s, which I must admit are a lot harder than the ones I wrote for him. Then when he has his notepad in front of him again, marking my answers, I lean across and start drawing something in his margin. <br/>
 <br/>
He lets me, although there’s an irritated expression on his face. I draw the kissing emoji, then start shading in the little heart. When he sees it, his cheeks flame red. He crosses it out immediately, supressing a laugh. <br/>
 <br/>
After the lesson, he packs up his things much slower than usual. I realise with a jolt of delight that he’s waiting for me. He doesn’t miss the pleased smile on my lips, rolling his eyes and walking with me out of the classroom. <br/>
 <br/>
“It makes me very suspicious when you do nice things,” I say with the smile still present on my face. His legs are longer than mine, and he could probably easily speed-walk away from me right now, but he doesn’t. I’d probably embarrass myself by running after him anyway. <br/>
 <br/>
“It’s all in my own interest.” <br/>
 <br/>
“You want something?” I say, raising an eyebrow. “Is it because you missed me yesterday?” <br/>
 <br/>
He scoffs and looks away, keeping his head down as he pushes a door open for us both. “Yesterday was a blessing,” he says once we’re outside. <br/>
 <br/>
“I’m not sure I believe you,” I say. He takes one look at my grin and looks down again. “Say it again. More convincing this time.”<br/>
 <br/>
“You’re a pain,” he grumbles. <br/>
 <br/>
I chuckle heartily. When Baz fights me, there’s an edge to his voice – a harsh, cruel edge. There’s no backing down. No losing. <br/>
 <br/>
I can’t hear it anymore. But sometimes there’s a fondness behind his eyes. A nervous, shy side to him. And the other Baz, who lets me kiss him. <br/>
 <br/>
I could get used to this. </p><p>-</p><p>Once rehearsals start, I begin to notice where my attention is really held. My eyes will start to flutter closed, feeling tired and drowsy, and then I’ll hear Baz’s voice. Like a puppet, my eyes will snap open and I’ll be unable to look anywhere else. Like Shakespeare’s Othello, I will fall into a trance. <br/>
 <br/>
Baz notices. Sometimes, when there’s a break in his acting on stage, when Miss Possibelf is giving directions, his eyes will find mine. His cheeks will blush when he finds I’m already staring at him. <br/>
 <br/>
Baz is graceful. His acting is unique, his movement across the stage fluid and perfected. The long line of his back, his slim legs, his dark hair, the curve of his jaw, refined and elegant. <br/>
 <br/>
Later, when he’s off the stage and I’m staring dumbly at the script in front of me, I get a text from an unknown number: <strong><em>stop staring at me.</em></strong><br/>
 <br/>
I can just about see him backstage, hidden partially by the curtain. He’s got a small smile on his lips, looking down at his phone. <br/>
 <br/>
I text back:<em><strong> I can’t help it.</strong></em><br/>
 <br/>
He peers up, past the curtain, and finds me in the front row of the audience. He bites on his bottom lip, as though supressing a grin. <br/>
 <br/>
He types out a response: <em><strong>Meet me in the carpark once everyone’s left.</strong></em><br/>
 <br/>
I look up at him and nod. He slips his phone back into his pocket, eventually getting called back onto the stage for another scene. <br/>
 <br/>
Miss Possibelf observes the scenes carefully, eyeing each actor with interest. She makes notes on her copy of the script, scribbling across the paper every now and then.<br/>
 <br/>
Yesterday my form tutor kept me behind after registration, letting me know that I need to have my personal statement finished as soon as possible. <br/>
 <br/>
Taking English Lit as a degree always felt like the obvious choice. It’s been my favourite subject since my first day in school. In my old foster homes, sometimes there would be nothing else to do except for read the second-hand books or write my own imaginary stories. <br/>
 <br/>
Watching Miss Possibelf now, clutching her script like a prized possession, my mind starts to run. I take a pen out of my bag and start scrawling across my own script, making notes for my personal statement. <em>English Lit. Creative Writing. Scriptwriter. </em><br/>
 <br/>
It’s a possibility. In the past few weeks, I’ve made peace with my school enemies. I’ve discovered that kissing me is perhaps Baz’s biggest weakness. I’m Finn’s understudy in the school play, for Christ sake. Anything is possible. </p><p>Baz’s voice, reciting eloquent lines, pulls my focus back to the stage. </p><p>-</p><p>Baz starts driving as soon as I slam the passenger seat door closed. I struggle with my twisted seat belt but he keeps driving calmly up the school driveway with one hand on the steering wheel. <br/>
 <br/>
I sit back against my seat, slouching a bit and watching as Baz turns to my side of town. “You were incredible today.” <br/>
 <br/>
He huffs out a laugh, feigning nonchalance. The pink tint to his cheeks gives him away. He says, “You wouldn’t stop staring.”<br/>
 <br/>
“I told you,” I say, studying his side-profile as he turns a corner, keeping his eyes firmly on the road, “I couldn’t help it.” <br/>
 <br/>
“You really just say it as it is, don’t you?” <br/>
 <br/>
“Would you prefer if I said it how it isn’t?” I raise my eyebrows and continue when he doesn’t respond, “Okay. Your acting is terrible.” <br/>
 <br/>
He scoffs, pressing his foot down harder on the gas. The car rumbles. <br/>
 <br/>
“Uh,” I tap my chin with my forefinger, “I hate looking at you.” <br/>
 <br/>
“Yeah, right.” The car speeds up, eventually turning into my road. <br/>
 <br/>
“And let’s see,” I hum, my head falling back when Baz hits the brakes. “I don’t want to kiss you,” I say. <br/>
 <br/>
He lets out an aggravated growl, undoing his seatbelt and mine in one fluid motion, using the grip he has on the back of my head to smash our lips together. A sound of pleasant surprise escapes my lips, leaning in closer, pulling him in with a hand slipping through his hair. <br/>
 <br/>
I let him navigate the kiss, leaning his head one way and swiping his tongue across my bottom lip. He lets out a breathy sound when I open my lips around his. <br/>
 <br/>
A few minutes pass before he leans back, creating a short distance between our faces. He looks rumpled, his lips a darker shade than before. I press one more innocent kiss against his lips, lingering for a moment too long. <br/>
 <br/>
His eyes flutter open, his eyelashes dark against his pale skin. “I’ll pick you up,” he says, voice low, “After practice. From now on.” <br/>
 <br/>
I’m too thrilled to make a usual snide remark, so instead I just nod, my nose close enough to almost brush his. <br/>
 <br/>
“Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday,” he clarifies. “Wait until everyone’s gone.” <br/>
 <br/>
“Okay,” I say, nodding again. He closes the distance between us again, effectively letting all other thoughts slip free from my mind. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i'm sure getting into a casual kissing 'relationship' with your enemy won't go wrong!</p><p>by the way I've never actually tried fries dipped into a milkshake but some of my friends think it's the shit</p><p>leave kudos to let me know if you’re enjoying the story :) xx</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. A Week of Realisation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Simon starts to realise a few things. Jealousy, keeping secrets and lovebites.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hello hello sorry i haven't updated for a week or so :( </p>
<p>i edited this after a few glasses of pimms so let me know if there are any mistakes</p>
<p>TW: very mild violence (?pls let me know if i need to revise the phrasing for this trigger warning. the last thing i want to do is distress anyone) </p>
<p>you will notice in this chapter how i reflect my tastes onto characters i.e. simon's messy bedroom</p>
<p>please enjoy! i will try to update in about a week or hopefully less!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It isn’t until rehearsals on Monday that I realise what a stupid mistake I’ve made. <br/> <br/>Kissing Baz the first time on the same stage in front of me now – that wasn’t a mistake. He’d asked me to – for practice – and there was no world in which I was going to refuse. Kissing Baz outside my house, in the pouring rain – that wasn’t a mistake either. It was a moment of losing control and doing something that we were holding back from. Agreeing to have this casual-kissing-relationship-thing (that is definitely NOT a regular relationship) with Baz also wasn’t a mistake. It was a necessity. An indulgence. It was waiting to happen. <br/> <br/>But everything that led up to the moment where Miss Possibelf asks Baz and Finn to practice their kiss again . . . that was all a huge mistake. <br/> <br/>Because I can’t help it. I can’t help the sudden temper that starts to rise when I see them kiss. I can’t help my irritation at the way Finn gazes after Baz. I can’t help this unexplainable jealousy. <br/> <br/>And because I have no real right to feel this way, I push it deep down into the pit of my stomach and forget it. I look down at the script in my lap to avoid what’s going on onstage. I start scribbling little drawings on the top of the page. I place the idea of Baz kissing other people, and the puzzling feelings I’m developing, into a box labelled ‘things not to think about’. And that’s where it will remain. <br/> <br/>When Finn and Baz are finally ushered off the stage and another scene is starting to take place, I make my way backstage. I haven’t seen Baz since Friday, when he decided he would be driving me home after rehearsals from now on. So I’m excited. To see him. But I won’t admit that out loud. <br/> <br/>After climbing the stairs by the side of the stage, I push one of the curtains aside and immediately recognise Finn and Baz stood together. Baz is leaning his back against the wall, his face partially lit up by the lights being pointed at the stage. Finn stands in front of him with his back to me, leaning in closer than I like. <br/> <br/>“You’re so convincing when you’re on stage,” Finn is saying as I stand close by. <br/> <br/>“Thanks,” Baz responds blankly. <br/> <br/>“Seriously, you’re so good.” Finn puts his hands in his pockets and shifts on his feet, as if he’s nervous. “We should meet up some time to go through our lines.”<br/> <br/>Baz glances up at him, his expression bored. His eyes slide over Finn and across to me, his eyebrows flickering in surprise. Finn notices and turns on his heel quickly; he no longer looks nervous – just irritated. <br/> <br/>“Am I interrupting something?” I ask, unable to hide the edge to my voice. <br/> <br/>Perhaps Finn doesn’t notice the annoyance simmering in me, because he just rolls his eyes and says, “Nope. You’re fine.” <br/> <br/>Finn huffs and looks out at the stage, finally paying attention to the scene taking place. Over his shoulder, Baz is still watching me. He narrows his eyes in question, as if to say, ‘what’s gotten you pissed off?’. I just offer him a half-hearted shrug in response. </p>
<p>-</p>
<p>Baz is sat in the driver’s seat, looking at his phone with his elbows resting on the steering wheel when I clamber into the passenger’s seat. He barely spares me a glance before tossing his phone into the cupholder and reversing out of the carpark. <br/> <br/>I decide then and there that I hate this silence. It’s not a comfortable, familiar silence. It’s one that, accompanied with the infuriating and envious feelings from before, accompanied with the memory of Finn’s smug face, makes me want to scream. <br/> <br/>It’s a strange thing – to feel jealous. To feel anger reaching a boiling point when I think about Finn and Baz being together. When I think about Baz being with anyone else. To think this about Baz, who isn’t even mine. <br/> <br/>So I decide then and there that Baz is not going to find out about these intrusive feelings. <br/> <br/>Despite myself, I bite my lip, slipping my hand across the two seats and sliding it onto Baz’s thigh. He jumps at the unexpected touch, but when I go to pull my hand away, he presses it back with one hand off the steering wheel. <br/> <br/>I dig my teeth into my lip harder, trying to stop myself from saying anything stupid. Still, I can’t help it when I say in a neutral tone, “You and Finn seem to be working together well now.” He doesn’t respond. I pinch his thigh and he turns to glare at me. “Very believable stuff,” I add.<br/> <br/>“It’s called acting,” he says in annoyance. <br/> <br/>“Is he acting?” <br/> <br/>“Why do you care?” Baz snaps. <br/> <br/>My face starts to turn red. I face the window to avoid him noticing, muttering, “I don’t.” <br/> <br/>Baz stops the car on the path outside my house. I turn my head to face forward, watching out of the corner of my eye as Baz surveys the area, checking if there’s anyone around. When he’s satisfied with his search, he turns his whole body to face me. <br/> <br/>My hand is still on his thigh, but I’m facing forward. Baz shuffles in his seat, leaning closer to the centre of the car, and my hand unintentionally slides further up his leg. I glance over at his face to notice the pink flush start to rise from his neck to his cheeks. <br/> <br/>He leans his head forward slowly, giving me the opportunity to stop him. But I don’t.<br/> <br/>I finally turn fully in my seat, watching the grey of his eyes, his pupils expanding as my hand slides upwards, turning to curve over his hip. He gulps and I watch the movement in his neck. <br/> <br/>My other hand comes up, resting under his chin, keeping his head level with mine. I keep my eyes trained curiously on him, watching the moment his eyes start to flutter closed as I get closer and closer and – <br/> <br/>He lets out a breath of air when my lips finally touch his, as if it’s a relief to be kissed. The kiss is light as first, testing the waters, testing my self-control. Then Baz lets out a muffled whine against me, so I open my mouth around his. <br/> <br/>I’m moving my lips slowly, languidly, taking my time, but Baz is impatient. He slides one hand up to the back of my head, gripping my hair and trying to bring us closer together, gliding his tongue against mine, stuttering slightly when I tighten my hold against his hip. <br/> <br/>I pull back from him, creating a distance between our faces but keeping one hand on his hip, one hand on his chin. He seems reluctant to let me stop, his eyes opening slowly, then narrowing, as if he’s suppressing his annoyance. <br/> <br/>My eyes trail away from his and to the sharp line of his jaw. My mouth is open, breathing heavily as I try to gain control of the situation. <br/> <br/>“Do you want to come inside?” I ask him in a low, strained voice. <br/> <br/>He doesn’t respond immediately, but I know he’s debating it because his eyes are flickering across the car, avoiding my gaze. I lean my head to the side, shifting slightly and pressing my lips to his jaw. <br/> <br/>He lets out a quiet, surprised gasp, but doesn’t stop me. Instead, his head slowly lolls to one side, giving me more space. I try again, pressing a kiss further up his jaw, lingering there for a moment too long. I’m closer to his ear now, so I whisper, “My house is right there.” <br/> <br/>He slides a hand up my chest and uses this grip to push me back slightly. When I’m face-to-face with him again, he unclenches his jaw, beginning to let his guard down. And then, he nods. <br/> <br/>Jumping out of the car, I start to grin like a winner. When I reach Baz on the other side, he notices my smile and lightly shoves me, which only makes me chuckle. <br/> <br/>I lean my back against my front door, just like when Baz had kissed me in the rain, and wiggle my eyebrows suggestively at him. He huffs out a sigh, the hint of a smile starting to grace his lips. <br/> <br/>I don’t realise until both Baz and I are inside the hallway with our shoes off that Ebb is also home. I’m alarmed to see her work bag hanging on the banister, and even more alarmed when she pokes her head out of the kitchen, surprise etched onto her face when she sees I’m not alone. <br/> <br/>“Simon!” She says. “Who’s this?” <br/> <br/>She starts to lean against the doorframe, crossing her arms over her chest and raising her eyebrows. I’ve only ever had Penny over at the house before. Seeing somebody else beside me other than her must be quite a shock. <br/> <br/>I glance over at Baz, who is hovering awkwardly behind me with his hands stuffed into the pocket of his skinny jeans. I say, “This is Baz. Baz, this is Ebb.” <br/> <br/>“Nice to meet you, Baz,” Ebb says, nodding in his direction. “Simon doesn’t usually have people over, so this is a nice surprise.”<br/> <br/>“We just finished rehearsals,” I say quickly. “Thought we’d run through some lines.” <br/> <br/>“Oh, are you in the school play too, Baz?” <br/> <br/>I’m pretty sure she knows he is. I’m pretty sure I’ve thrown around the name ‘Baz’ at home plenty of times. Ranting about how annoying he is, how superior he thinks he is, how everyone idolises him. <br/> <br/>At least she doesn’t know about the kissing. The kissing is a drastic change to the things I used to say about Baz.<br/> <br/>Baz nods, but before he can open his mouth, I say, “Yes. Baz is playing Joseph, as in Juliet.” <br/> <br/>“Are you enjoying it?” Ebb asks. <br/> <br/>This one I can’t really answer for him. But Baz has no problem speaking up. He says, “So much. I’ve always loved acting. The cast we have this year is really something.” <br/> <br/>Ebb smiles and asks, “What’s Simon like when he’s acting?” <br/> <br/>I turn to look at Baz’s face and to my utter surprise, he’s grinning. Teeth and all. His eyes are crinkled slightly at the sides and he looks like nothing else I’ve ever seen. He tells Ebb, “He’s better than he realises.” <br/> <br/>Ebb seems completely charmed by his words. It’s like watching magic happen – the way he enchants the people he speaks to. <br/> <br/>“We’re going to head upstairs,” I say. Ebb nods, gesturing as if to say ‘shoo’. <br/> <br/>Baz follows behind me. The moment I push open my bedroom door, I begin to regret my decision to invite him in. <br/> <br/>My room is a tip. There are clothes in a heap on the floor, books I’ve been flicking through stacked in a tall pile next to my bed, papers scattered across my desk. I swivel on my heel, finding Baz leaning against the closed door with a closed-mouth smile. <br/> <br/>“This is exactly what I expected your room to look like,” Baz says, lips curling. <br/> <br/>“Because it’s a mess and so am I?” <br/> <br/>He lets out a short laugh and says, “It is messy. But I meant the books,” his eyes lock pointedly on the pile next to my bed, “And the posters.” <br/> <br/>He’s staring at the poster I have of Stephen King’s ‘IT’. Pennywise is plastered on the front, its body fading into the shadows with the title written in blood red at the bottom. <br/> <br/>“Doesn’t that freak you out?” Baz asks. <br/> <br/>“No,” I say. “It’s one of my favourite books and movies. And I’m not scared of clowns.” <br/> <br/>Baz hums, seemingly interested. He starts to gravitate towards my unmade bed. He sits on it, showing no disgust towards the untidiness. I stand in the middle of the room with my hands laced behind my back. <br/> <br/>He purses his lips at the movies on my bookcase and says, “You like marvel movies?” When I nod, he asks, “Who’s your favourite superhero?”<br/> <br/>“Probably Spiderman,” I say without a second thought. I make my way closer to the bed and as I’m sitting beside him, I ask, “Would you ever want to play a superhero?” <br/> <br/>“Maybe,” he says. “I might be better at playing a villain.” <br/> <br/>I could see that. Baz is all dark features; stormy eyes and jet-black hair and gloomy stares. And he’s scary. Because he’s got all of this talent, all of these things to say, and people who are willing to hang onto every word he has. In another world, he’s a typical villain. <br/> <br/>I remember him dressed as a vampire at the Halloween party, with fake blood trickling from his lips. <br/> <br/>“Joseph isn’t a villain,” I point out. <br/> <br/>Instead of responding, Baz shuffles closer to me on the bed until there’s no distance between our legs. And he slides his hand back up into my hair, leaning across and closing the space between us. <br/> <br/>When his lips touch mine again, I feel the desire and the heat from his car come running back. The feeling of wanting. Wanting this, wanting more, wanting him. It’s almost too much. <br/> <br/>I place a hand on his chest and push him back against the bed. He grips onto my hair, pulling me on top of him and opening his mouth to release a muffled sound. I slip my tongue into his mouth and feel my neck growing hot at the way his arms tighten around me. I’m on all fours above him, my knees on either side of his hips, bending down to kiss him with everything I have. <br/> <br/>It’s not enough. It’s hazy and hot and – <br/> <br/>Distantly, I know this can’t go any further than kissing. Ebb is only downstairs. <br/> <br/>But Baz is pressing hot kisses against my mouth and – when I pull my head back, he’s panting, and his dark hair is spread across my bedsheets. So I tilt my head and once again press my lips to his jawline. <br/> <br/>He slides both hands through my curls, moving his head the other way, exposing more of his neck. I kiss down it, stopping only for a second, letting my breath fan against his skin, feeling him shiver. <br/> <br/>I’m sure he can feel my smirk when I start to kiss even lower, moving his t-shirt down to reach his collarbones. I glance up at him, holding my weight on one hand to move his chin, bringing his gaze back to me. I whisper, “Can I . . .” <br/> <br/>He seems to understand what I’m asking because he nods frantically. I surge back down and connect my lips to his collarbone. His breathing becomes heavier the second I start sucking, pressing my tongue delicately to the spot. When my teeth start to nip, he gasps again – like he had in the car – and fidgets his legs. A hand pinching the bare skin of his hip, underneath the hem of his t-shirt, makes him relax. <br/> <br/>When I pull away and start to sit back on his legs, I only observe the red mark for a moment before catching Baz’s dark eyes. Carefully, I ask, “Was that okay?” <br/> <br/>“Yes,” he says, his voice much lower than before. Then he reaches up, holding the back of my neck and kissing me once again. </p>
<p>-</p>
<p>I only realise a couple of days later how difficult keeping this new secret from Penny is. <br/> <br/>It’s during our free period on Wednesday. We’re sat in one of the study rooms revising for a biology test when Penny leans her head against her hand and sighs dramatically. <br/> <br/>“Is this because Shep isn’t in today? Are you getting separation anxiety?” I tease. <br/> <br/>She reaches across the table to shove my shoulder, then sighs again and admits, “Maybe.” She taps her pen against her textbook for a moment, then says, “I really like him, Simon.” <br/> <br/>“I know, Pen. He really likes you, too.” <br/> <br/>“I’m sorry,” she says. “Am I talking about him too much?” <br/> <br/>“No, not at all,” I say honestly. Penny talking about her happiness has never been a problem for me. <br/> <br/>And yet, when she says, “Is there anyone you’re interested in at the moment? We could go on double dates!” I can’t help the sudden pool of resentment in the pit of my stomach. <br/> <br/>But it’s not Penny’s fault. Baz called the shots – he decided he would drive me home, we would snog, we wouldn’t tell anyone. Feelings weren’t supposed to come into play. And I really thought I would be fine with that. <br/> <br/>Seeing the way Finn acts around him, seeing the way Penny talks about Shep, feeling the things I feel when I’m around Baz, I realise I’m not fine with that. I want more. <br/> <br/>With Baz though, I’ll take what I can get. <br/> <br/>“Simon, did you hear me?” <br/> <br/>“Yeah, sorry,” I clear my throat, directing at my eyes towards my textbook. “I’m not really interested in a relationship right now.” <br/> <br/>The desire to tell Penny everything is stronger than ever now. She’d know exactly what to say. And the words are right there on the tip of my tongue. It would be so easy just to blurt it all out: <br/> <br/><em>Baz Pitch drives me home after rehearsals and we snog in his car and that’s all it was supposed to be but for me, it’s way more than that. Way more than I ever thought. </em><br/><br/>Penny would have the solution. And she’s right here in front of me, watching me worriedly out of the corner of her eye. <br/> <br/>I open my mouth to talk, and at that precise moment, Agatha and Baz come bustling into the room. Agatha’s eyes light up when she sees us; Baz remains completely neutral. <br/> <br/>“Hey, you guys!” Agatha says excitedly. Both Penny and I greet her as they start to sit down at a table across the room. Agatha seems like she wants to keep talking to us but Baz brings her attention to the cue cards he’s holding, quizzing each other for a test. <br/> <br/>Penny leans her elbows on our table and says, “I met Shep’s parents at the weekend.” <br/> <br/>I raise my eyebrows, “You didn’t tell me about that. How did it go?” <br/> <br/>“They were so nice. His mum cooked the most amazing pasta bake,” she’s grinning from ear to ear, reliving the memory. “His dad looks just like him.” <br/> <br/>“That’s awesome, Pen.” <br/> <br/>My gaze trails powerlessly across the room to Baz. He’s sitting back in his chair, his legs stretched out under the table and he looks untouchable. Unreachable. As if nothing could get through to him. But then I narrow my eyes at the shirt he’s wearing, which is cleverly hiding the bruise I left on his collarbone. And I recall the way he’d nodded eagerly and gripped my hair tightly. <br/> <br/><em>Not so untouchable. I know how to get through to him. </em><br/> <br/>He looks good today. <em>Every day</em>. He’s wearing his signature black skinny jeans and boots. Some of his dark hair is pulled back into a little ponytail at the back of his head, with the rest of it trailing down. I remember how he used to gel all of it back. It looks better like this – soft and free. <br/> <br/>“Oh my god, Simon,” Penny’s quiet voice breaks me out of my trance. My mouth snaps shut when I see Penny’s eyes widening, “Didn’t you just say you weren’t interested in anyone?” <br/> <br/>“I’m not,” I lie. <br/> <br/>“Then what did I just witness?” <br/> <br/>My mouth feels dry all of a sudden, alarm bells ringing in my head. “What did you witness?” <br/> <br/>“You,” she says, slowly, “staring at Agatha like she’s some sort of angel.” <br/> <br/>Relief floods through me. I just shrug nonchalantly and mutter, “It’s nothing.” <br/> <br/>“Okay,” she says, clearly not believing me. <br/> <br/><em>Well</em>, I think to myself, <em>it’s easier than the truth.</em> </p>
<p>-</p>
<p>At rehearsals that afternoon, the costumes Keris designed are finally ready. There’s a mountain of materials on the stage – shirts, trousers, hats of all varying colours. Miss Possibelf told Keris she wanted bright, vibrant colours of the rainbow and, seeing it all set out, Keris really ran with it. <br/> <br/>Her and Miss Possibelf are on the stage sorting through the clothes, deciding who is wearing what. Penny and I are sat in the front row with Baz’s group, but I’m drawn to the stage. <br/> <br/>I finally finished my personal statement a few days ago. My tutor had practically ripped it out of my hand, relieved that I’d finally attempted it. And her impressed gaze as she read over it was enough for me. Now I can’t help imagining another stage, in another life, with a play that I’ve written being performed to an awed audience. <br/> <br/>Miss Possibelf picking up a lacey white top and holding it to her chest brings my attention back to reality. She pouts with her bottom lip and shrugs at Keris, saying, “This is very Joseph.” The thought of Baz wearing a top like that makes my neck suddenly feel very hot. <br/> <br/>“Maybe they’ll have you wear a dress, Baz,” Niall is saying with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. Baz rolls his eyes, also watching the stage intently. <br/> <br/>“I happen to think Baz would look very good in a dress,” Agatha says, trying to look serious even though her lips are twitching. <br/> <br/>“He has the legs for it,” Penny says. The impulse to nod in agreement is quickly repressed, replaced instead with a stony expression. Because Baz has the legs for anything. Literally. Anything. <br/> <br/>Baz seems to sense something from where I’m sat, because he sits back against his seat, looking past Niall and Agatha. He catches my eye, smirking when he sees the tight set of my shoulders. <br/> <br/>Miss Possibelf claps her hands together, gaining the attention of everyone in the room. She stands centre-stage, hands on her hips as though she’s about to perform a dramatic monologue. Instead, she tells all actors from the first act – the Capulet party – to collect their costumes and put them on in the changing rooms. <br/> <br/>Everyone starts moving around the room, heading towards the stairs by the stage. Keris is handing out extravagant party clothes to everyone who greets her on the stage. Miss Possibelf says, “Simon, Max, you need to go down to the changing rooms and check if the same outfits Finn and Baz are wearing also fit you.” <br/> <br/>The loud voices from the boy’s changing rooms can be heard from down the hallway, even with the door closed. Despite how much he looks like he has something to say, Max and I walk silently under the stage. <br/> <br/>I take a seat on the changing room bench, next to Niall’s bag. Niall is almost naked already, wearing only boxer briefs and making no move to change. Dev and Baz are comparing their costumes, exchanging private jokes. <br/> <br/>“Finn, I have to try on your outfit after you,” I call across the changing rooms. He barely even spares me a glance. <br/> <br/>Niall pulls this yellow, frilly top on. He’s squawking with laughter, standing in front of me and striking a pose. When I hear Baz’s deep laughter, I glance over and immediately regret it. <br/> <br/>Baz, without his t-shirt, stands just across the room from me. I try unsuccessfully to peel my gaze away. He’s just as long and lean as I imagined, his skin smooth and pale, the faint shape of abs on his stomach. My mouth feels positively dry by the time my eyes zero in on the one mark on his chest. <br/> <br/>There, splattered against his collarbone, is the bruise I left with my mouth. It’s not hard to miss. Against Baz’s light skin, the mark is the only hint of colour. And it’s very colourful indeed – a swirling palette of dark red and purple. <br/> <br/>He’s too busy chuckling at Niall’s stupidity to notice it’s on display. His gaze eventually slides across to me, eyebrows furrowing when he sees my widened eyes. Only when I nod towards the bruise does realisation flash across his face. <br/> <br/>But it’s too late. Someone shouts, “Woah, woah, woah, Basilton!” <br/> <br/>“Baz!” Dev says, his face a picture of pure shock. “Who’s the guy?” <br/> <br/>Something clatters against the ground and I turn my head to Finn, whose face has turned a sickening, angry red. <br/> <br/>Baz slips Joseph’s outfit on – a tight-fitting baby blue shirt – and consequently hides the bruise. But everyone has seen, and all eyes are on him. <br/> <br/>Baz doesn’t dare sneak a glance at me. His face is impassive except for the slight blush rising to his cheeks. <br/> <br/>“It’s nothing,” he mutters. <br/> <br/>“It’s <em>not</em> nothing,” Niall says. <br/> <br/>“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend, Baz,” one of the guys from my English class says. <br/> <br/>“I don’t,” he snaps. <br/> <br/>“Who are you hooking up with then?” Dev asks firmly. Perhaps there’s a flash of hurt behind his eyes. Being Baz’s best friend and yet not knowing he’s involved with a guy must be a hard pill to swallow. Then again, Baz has always seemed like a private person. <br/> <br/>I remember how, before Baz came out, the rumours about his and Agatha’s relationship used to race around the school. And rarely was there any sort of denial from either of them. Agatha, at least, would giggle and brush it off. Baz hardly said anything – as if he didn’t care what people thought. As if he didn’t owe anyone the truth. <br/> <br/>And he didn’t. Baz’s sexuality was nobody’s business but his own. And yet, he handed out that slice of truth to us all, like a gift. Creating a rumour of his own and sending it spinning around the school. <em>Did you know Baz Pitch is gay? Haven’t you heard about Baz? Did you hear what everyone’s saying about Baz? </em><br/> <br/>Baz shrugs one shoulder, looking down at his clothes to avoid anyone detecting a lie on his face when he says, “Just this guy who goes to college in town.” <br/> <br/>Satisfied enough, the subject is dropped. But there’s an undeniable tension in the changing rooms, from the frown on Dev’s face to the fierce expression on Finn’s. <br/> <br/>Later, when I’m sat in the audience with my script open on my lap, Dev and Niall come back from one of their scenes, huffing as they sit either side of me. <br/> <br/>“What college guy?” Niall says with a bewildered look, leaning forward to look at Dev. <br/> <br/>“I don’t know anything more than you do,” Dev says, holding his hands up in surrender. <br/> <br/>“I had no idea he was seeing anyone.” <br/> <br/>“Why are we surprised? It’s Baz,” Dev rolls his eyes, glancing up at the stage. “He keeps things to himself. It’s always been that way.” <br/> <br/>They don’t ask for my opinion on the situation. They don’t ask if I’ve heard about the college guy. Then again, why would they? From their point of view, Baz and I tolerate each other for the sake of everyone else. We’ve only just learnt how to be in one another’s presence without angry words and jarring insults. <br/> <br/>They don’t know what we’re hiding; the time spent in his car, the stolen kisses, the secret touches, the longing gazes. <br/> <br/>And if Baz has anything to do with it, they won’t ever know. </p>
<p>-</p>
<p>When I slip into Baz’s car with a smirk across my face, he doesn’t start driving immediately. Instead, he narrows his eyes, staring at me and waiting for me to explain myself. <br/> <br/>Unable to help myself, I raise my eyebrows suggestively and say, “College guy, huh?” <br/> <br/>He scoffs, eyes travelling across the empty carpark. <br/> <br/>“What’s he like?” I ask, grinning now. His gaze drops to my lips and remains glued there. “Is he fit?” <br/> <br/>“Shut your mouth,” he growls and before I can even tell him to <em>make me</em>, he surges forward across the two seats. </p>
<p>-</p>
<p>The next day, Agatha finds me revising in one of the study rooms. She beams when she sees me, taking the seat opposite.<br/> <br/>“I just love how things are now,” she says after ten minutes of silent work. I could tell she was working up to talking because she stopped writing anything some time ago. When I send a confused look, she sighs and explains, “Our group. I love seeing all of us together.” <br/> <br/><em>It’s all for the play</em>, I almost say. <br/> <br/>“It’s . . . different.” <br/> <br/>“I know you and Baz haven’t always seen eye to eye but now . . . we’re like one big group.” <br/> <br/><em>Because Baz tolerates me now – now that I kiss him whenever we’re alone. </em><br/> <br/>“Where is Baz?” I ask, swiftly avoiding the conversation. <br/> <br/>Agatha shrugs, glancing around the empty room as if expecting to find him. Tapping her pen against her chin, she says, “I think he’s in the computer room.” <br/> <br/>He wasn’t when I walked through. It’s as if my attention is constantly drawn to Baz, my eyes detecting him in any room. And he notices too, because whenever he catches me staring, he’ll shake his head with a small smirk plastered across his lips. <br/> <br/>“We should all do something outside of school,” Agatha says, gazing thoughtfully out of the window. “Go to the cinema, or something.” <br/> <br/>I hum in response, trying to bring my focus back to my revision. I’ve been making cue cards for psychology, but they take so much time, and none of the information is really sticking. <br/> <br/>Agatha barely nods when I excuse myself from the room, already zoning back into her own work. My stomping down the stairs leading to the bottom floor is loud and echoey. I quieten my steps as I wander through the computer room, eyes flitting across the room, searching for a familiar head of dark hair. <br/> <br/>As I reach the door on the other side of the room, I find his bag leaning against one of the chairs, the computer logged into his account. Closing the door softly behind me, I make my way towards the boy’s toilets. <br/> <br/>The door to the bathroom swings closed behind me, ringing through the drab room. The first thing I notice is Finn, stood almost with his back to me, his hand clenched against the sink. And pressed up against the wall in front of him . . . Baz. <br/> <br/>At the sound of the door, both of their heads snap up to me. My first assumption – that I’m interrupting a moment of intimacy between them – is quickly scrapped when I notice the look on Baz’s face. <br/> <br/>“Baz?” I say uncertainly, my voice the only sound in the otherwise silent and dingy bathroom. <br/> <br/>Finn’s grip tightens on the sink, his knuckles turning white. The same sickly white colour is coated across Baz’s cheeks as he sends me a cautious glance. <br/> <br/>“What’s going on?” I ask, fists clenching at my side. <br/> <br/>“Fuck off, Simon,” Finn practically growls. “We’re just having a conversation.” <br/> <br/>I’ve never seen Finn like this before. I didn’t think Finn was capable of being like this. He seemed like a sweet boy with good intentions and an innocent crush on Baz. <br/> <br/>“Why don’t we go outside and talk?” I ask. <br/> <br/>“<em>We</em> aren’t doing anything.” <br/> <br/>“Okay,” I say, then step closer, extending my hand to Baz. “Come on, Baz. Let’s go.” <br/> <br/>Baz, who hasn’t spoken a word yet, doesn’t need to be told twice. He reaches out his arm, slipping his cold hand into mine and letting me pull him away from Finn. <br/> <br/>Before he gets a chance to slip away from the wall, Finn reacts suddenly, pushing his hand against Baz’s chest and slamming him into the wall. His hand slips out of mine. <br/> <br/>Anger boils up inside of me. A sharp feeling of adrenaline shooting through me. I reach out, grabbing the back of Finn’s jumper and pulling him back swiftly, away from the sinks until he’s right beside me. Then I shove him back against the opposite wall, next to the full-body mirror. <br/> <br/>“What the fuck was that?” I ask, controlling my furious breathing with a hand pressed firmly to his chest, keeping him there. <br/> <br/>With a glance to the mirror, I find Baz’s reflection staring back at me, grey eyes wide. <br/> <br/>“Get the fuck off me,” Finn says, a warning. And he might be slightly taller than me, but he doesn’t have a lot of muscle. I think I have a fair chance of winning a fight. If I have to. And I will. <br/> <br/>The moment I start to glance at the mirror again, Finn smacks my hand off him, his fingers curling into a fist. He uses my distraction to his advantage, stepping forward and punching me full force in the cheek.<br/> <br/>For a second, I feel the shock of pain. But it doesn’t last long. It wasn’t a great punch and by the way that Finn cradles his hand, it looks like it hurt him more. I hear Baz shouting for somebody just as Finn reaches forward for a second punch. <br/> <br/>But I’m prepared this time. With a swift grip to his wrist, I twist his hand behind his back and push his chest up against the wall. I find his other hand, restraining them both. <br/> <br/>I don’t have to hold him for long. The next thing I know, two teachers are rushing into the bathroom and getting between us. I let go, stepping backwards with both hands raised. My back smacks into somebody’s chest and I turn to see Baz, facial expression blank as he stares over at Finn. <br/> <br/>His head tilts to me, expression shifting into something softer. I reach over and blindly grip his hand. After a moment, he runs his thumb along my knuckles.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>The news spreads quickly around the school: Finn has been suspended from school for instigating a fight. People say it’s only for a week, but at least that’s something. <br/> <br/>From person to person, the facts start to distort into something unrecognisable, as rumours often do. Penny texts me later in the day: <em><strong>uhhhh is it true your head got dunked in the loo????? Pls shower before I see you x</strong></em><br/> <br/>It isn’t until Baz is driving me home that I find out what happened before I intervened. It’s a Thursday, so we don’t have rehearsal, which technically means Baz shouldn’t be driving me home. But he texted during my English class insisting I meet him at the car. </p>
<p>I’m expecting complete silence as I slip into the passenger’s seat. I’m expecting Baz to barely acknowledge me. Shockingly, he waits until I buckle my seatbelt, then sends me an affectionate smile. The sight of him, looking at me like that – it does something unexplainable to my chest. <br/> <br/>He pulls out of the carpark. Then, once we’re on the main road, he says, “He kept asking who gave me the hickey.” <br/> <br/>I open and close my mouth, settling for an awkward, “Oh,” in response. <br/> <br/>Again, to my surprise, Baz’s lips quirk up at my lost reply. He explains, “When I was washing my hands, he came in and demanded to know. I just repeated that it was some ‘college guy’ and he kept going, asking why I never told him I had a boyfriend.” <br/> <br/>I gulp, guilt seeping into my chest. I say softly, “Baz, I’m sorry. It’s my fault for doing . . .” I gesture vaguely to his neck, “that.” <br/> <br/>He shakes his head, “Don’t apologise.” His cheeks turn a dusty pink as he quietly admits, “I wanted you to.” <br/> <br/>My heart does an odd sort of somersault. <br/> <br/>“I didn’t think Finn would . . .” Baz wrinkles up his nose slightly as he says, “I’d been told he liked me. I could tell a lot of the time. But . . . I didn’t think he would do that.” <br/> <br/>“Did he hurt you?” I ask suddenly, my voice louder than before. My right hand, resting against my legs, begins to furl subconsciously into a fist. <br/> <br/>“No, he just got into my personal space.” Baz’s eyes briefly flit over to my fist before focusing back on the road. “And then you saw him push me against the wall when I tried to leave with you.” <br/> <br/>“I’m not usually a violent person,” I say.<br/> <br/>“You weren’t violent. You tried to deal with it calmly and he reacted badly.”<br/> <br/>When Baz stops the car on the curb outside my house, I turn in my seat to face him. “You can, um,” I say uncertainly, “call me, if you want to talk about it at all.” <br/> <br/>I’m expecting him to clench his jaw and offer me an impassive look. But he nods his head, his mouth forming another pleased smile that I can’t seem to take my eyes off. He says, “Thank you.” <br/> <br/>I reach out my hand slowly, allowing him time to stop me, and caress his cheek. He lets me, my thumb brushing affectionately over his cheekbone. He leans into the touch, letting out a heavy exhale and inclining his head closer. <br/> <br/>He stops an inch away from my lips, his forefinger swiping across the pale bruise on my cheek, left by Finn’s weak punch. <br/> <br/>I press a soft, chaste kiss to his lips. His body starts to relax, tension easing away. My other hand reaches across the two seats and lands, palm pressed on the material of his shirt, right over his heart. It’s hammering against his chest, beating to a rapid rhythm against my hand. </p>
<p>-</p>
<p>It isn’t until Friday’s rehearsal that I realise. <br/> <br/>Miss Possibelf orders us to sit in the first few rows of the audience. She seems serious in a way that I’ve never seen her, like she’s about to make a life-changing announcement. <br/> <br/>She glances down at her notepad and up again at our beady stares. “So I’m sure you’re all aware of what happened yesterday,” she says, her voice booming through the hall. She very deliberately avoids looking at me or Baz. “Finn has been temporarily suspended from school, and as a result of what happened, we’ve decided that he will be excluded from taking part in the play.” <br/> <br/>A series of dramatic gasps are echoed throughout the room. Worried whispers, wondering how we will go on. <br/> <br/>I glance curiously behind me, to where Baz is sat, but he’s already staring at me. He looks like he knows something I don’t. <br/> <br/>“So, luckily we prepared for if one of the main characters couldn’t make it,” Miss Possibelf explains. “The part of Romeo will therefore of course be going to Finn’s understudy.” <br/> <br/>More whispers flit across the room. Briefly, I wonder why everyone’s heads are snapping over to me, why their stares are boring into the back of my head. <br/> <br/><em>Oh</em>, I think dumbly to myself. <em>I’m Finn’s understudy.</em> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>finn's punishment comes from experience at my school. this is the punishment people would often get (though it depended on circumstances) at my secondary school. it was different at sixth form but this makes sense for the purpose of the story so pls don't hate me. </p>
<p>hope everyone has a lovely weekend x</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. And Again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Simon tries his hardest to play the perfect Romeo, juggling his lines in one hand and his feelings for Baz in the other.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i'm back with an update! the plan for this chapter was initially much, much longer so i've decided to make up another chapter for this story. so there are now going to be eight parts altogether and the ninth will be an epilogue. </p>
<p>i edited this at silly hours of the morning so again, there may be some mistakes. let me know if you spot any! </p>
<p>i'm going to try to post the next chapter very soon but i've got a few busy days ahead of me. i'll try to update late next week :)</p>
<p>thank you for all your support!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The weekend gives me an opportunity to come to terms with the recent development. </p>
<p>Me. Simon Snow. I am playing the part of Romeo in our school’s winter play. Our school’s winter play which is less than a month away from opening night. </p>
<p>On Saturday night, Ebb ordered in takeaway for us both. Halfway through Guardians of the Galaxy, when our plates were stacked on the coffee table and Ebb began dozing off against the arm of the sofa, I twisted to face her. </p>
<p>“I’m playing Romeo in the school play,” I blurted out. </p>
<p>She jumped at the sudden noise, rubbing her eyes tiredly. “I know, honey. You already told me –”</p>
<p>“No. I’m really playing him. I’m not an understudy anymore.” </p>
<p>Slowly, like she was coming to life all of a sudden, her eyes began to widen. She tugged me into a hug, rubbing my back affectionately. The smile didn’t leave her face until she slipped back into sleep against the palm of her hand. </p>
<p>I don’t think too much about the overwhelming pressure of it all until I arrive at rehearsals on Monday. I’m early. Ridiculously early, actually. When I reach the empty hall, I belatedly realise I was hoping Baz would be here too. </p>
<p>I sit in the front row of the audience, slumped down low into my chair. I watch the stage for a while, thinking hard. Imagining me stood alone on that stage, reciting lines to an audience of eager listeners. Imagining me stood on that stage with Baz beside me. Baz, my love interest, in the school play. </p>
<p>A sick bubble of nerves rise up my throat. Just as I’m contemplating running to the toilet, the doors at the back of the room swing open. I glance over my shoulder just as Agatha, Dev and Niall come storming into the hall. </p>
<p>Agatha walks slightly ahead of the other two, striding up the centre aisle and along to where I’m sat. She’s smiling before she reaches me, her hair put back into a messy bun (which doesn’t really look messy at all). </p>
<p>“Simon! I didn’t get a chance to say on Friday but I’m so proud of you. You’re going to be an amazing Romeo,” she says, gesturing wildly with her hands. When we found out on Friday, Agatha was the first person to pull me aside and hug me – but I’m not about to correct her. </p>
<p>“Thank you,” I say. The nerves in my stomach settle, but don’t disappear. </p>
<p>Later, Miss Possibelf perches on the edge of the stage, her notebook open in her hands. She explains that we’re going to take today slowly, mapping out each scene again but with the new Romeo, making sure I know where I need to be at the right time. </p>
<p>Everyone is patient for the next hour, guiding me this way and that. I’m clutching my script to my chest, walking across the front of the stage as Miss Possibelf explains, “And this is where you would recite that monologue.” It’s tiring, and impossible to remember. I’m at my most comfortable when Penny is in the same scene as me, by my side sending me reassuring smiles. </p>
<p>I’m most on edge when I’m alone on the stage with Baz. Miss Possibelf takes her time, positioning me with my back to him, then with my front facing the audience, then up close to his chest. She says, “This is where you have your first kiss,” and pauses the stage, giving herself time to hop into the audience and see how natural it looks. This close, I can see Baz’s calm breaths in the up-and-down motion of his chest. He blinks down at me, quirking his lips when he sees me staring. </p>
<p>I don’t know what Miss Possibelf sees in us, but a few seconds later, she hums thoughtfully. I’m frozen in place, eyes trained on the loose lock of Baz’s soft hair falling in his face. My fingers itch to move it behind his ear. He still has that little smile tugging at his lips. </p>
<p>When Miss Possibelf claps her hands together, Baz and I jerk apart from each other. My cheeks start to heat up, embarrassed even though we haven’t been caught doing anything. Miss Possibelf says, “We’re going to try running through the first scene.” </p>
<p>As soon as everything is set on stage, the nerves zap into my stomach, cold and unwelcome. We’re stood stage-left – Dev, Penny and I. My script is held between my two shaky hands, clutching the pages tightly to prevent the nerves. Being the only person still needing a script only heightens my unease. </p>
<p>They’re waiting. I have to squint my eyes to see past the blinding lights, but there, in the audience, are people watching me. Miss Possibelf, with her worn out notebook and extremely high expectations. Max, Agatha, Niall. Shep, out of sight in his lighting booth. But all their eyes are on me. </p>
<p>I glance across the stage, behind the curtain, backstage, and find him watching. He has his arms crossed over his chest, his posture tense. His facial expression doesn’t betray much, but I can see more now that I know where to look. He’s on edge too. Whether it’s because he’s wishing he could help, or he thinks I might ruin his play with this horrendous display, I’m not sure. </p>
<p>I remember when Miss Possibelf gave me the part of Finn’s understudy and Baz had sneered, <em>Don’t ruin this for me</em>. It feels like forever ago now, but it happened, and he meant it. Does he think I’m going to ruin his play now? </p>
<p>I shift my gaze over to Penny and Dev, who are both waiting expectantly. Penny’s soft expression immediately relaxes me. She starts to brighten, smiling, telling me, “You’ve got this.” </p>
<p>I open my mouth, exhale sharply, and start the scene. I try to connect with Romeo’s character, understanding his obsession with romance, his view on love as a necessity. I’ve studied Shakespeare’s writing plenty of times before – I’ve analysed Romeo’s lines countless times. </p>
<p>I watched Finn playing Romeo hundreds of times, to the point where him and Baz practically tattooed themselves into my brain. But I’m not playing Romeo in the same way Finn did. I’m not going to copy him exactly. I’m going to play Romeo as I see him, because I can’t do it any other way. </p>
<p>Maybe if I was a better actor, I could play him Finn’s way. But I speak Romeo’s lines as I hear them. I can’t pretend they sound any differently. </p>
<p>When the scene is over, Miss Possibelf is grinning. She doesn’t say much, but she tells us to try the next scene – at the Capulet party, when Romeo first sees Joseph. As more actors make their way onto the stage, Penny squeezes my shoulder affectionately. </p>
<p>I don’t notice the moment the nerves subside, but I do recognise happiness when I feel it. The staggering feeling of delight starts to replace anything negative, and I find myself looking forward to the next scene. </p>
<p>The Capulet party is in full swing. Mercutio, Benvolio and Romeo weave their way through the partygoers. Penny and Dev, confident with their lines, enjoy their jovial back-and-forth. I look out at the audience, squinting my eyes as if they, too, are part of the party, and then I turn to my side and do a double-take. </p>
<p>Baz walks onto the stage, dressed in Joseph’s pretty party outfit. When Finn was playing Romeo, he didn’t do a double-take, but I felt it was something Romeo would do. Romeo, the romantic, falling in love at first sight. </p>
<p>Baz doesn’t immediately catch my eyes, but Romeo is utterly captivated by Joseph’s beauty. When I’m staring at Baz, my mouth slightly parted, my eyes following him around the room, I don’t even feel as if I’m Romeo anymore. </p>
<p>I’m just me. Simon Snow, staring at Baz Pitch. Simon Snow, who has to be the biggest, gaping prat for starting to fall for Baz Pitch. </p>
<p>I stumble over my lines, shocked by my own thoughts. Do I like the sound of heartbreak or something? There has to be some reason that I’ve set myself up like this. Agreeing to a secret-kissing-relationship-thing with Baz is one thing. Developing real, honest feelings for him is another. </p>
<p>Baz finally meets my eyes across the stage; his shadowy, grey eyes softening when he sees my charmed expression. The whole world stands still for a second. </p>
<p>I am truly fucked. </p>
<p>-</p>
<p>Baz is in a good mood when I hop into his car after rehearsals. I’m immediately relieved to see his small, private smile as he starts up the car and reverses out of the carpark. My instinct to apologise for being such a terrible actor is ditched when Baz says, “You did well today.” </p>
<p>He presses his lips tightly together when he sees the surprised expression on my face. “Everyone was really patient with me,” I say, mostly to stop myself from disagreeing with his compliment. </p>
<p>He hums, tapping his hands against the steering wheel. “You need to learn your lines though,” he presses. </p>
<p>I glance over to check if he still looks content. He does, if his easy posture and bright eyes are anything to go by. I don’t say much until he parks outside my house, then I turn in my seat to face him and say his name. </p>
<p>He quirks up an eyebrow, “What?” </p>
<p>“How are you going to deal with it when we have to kiss?” I whisper, already smirking. As an afterthought, I add, “Kiss onstage, I mean.” </p>
<p>“What do you mean?” He starts to glare, his eyes narrowing. </p>
<p>“I mean, how are you going to act like you’re not all over me? It’s going to be pretty obvious that you’re attracted to me, don’t you think?” </p>
<p>He scowls at my question. I can’t help the laughter bubbling up my throat. Baz deadpans, “I’m sure I’ll cope.” </p>
<p>“But,<em> how</em>?” I scratch the back of my head, as if deep in thought. “How will you convince everyone –”</p>
<p>He huffs, reaching across the middle of the car to grab a fistful of my curls, pulling me towards him. I go willingly, holding myself up with a hand pressed against his thigh. He crashes his lips into mine, opening his mouth in a trail of hot kisses. </p>
<p>Well, that’s one way to end a conversation. </p>
<p>-</p>
<p>By the time the weekend rolls around, I’m relieved. </p>
<p>Rehearsals have been exhausting. Between going over my lines every night, tripping over my own feet onstage and keeping secrets from Penny, it’s safe to say I was glad to be getting back in Baz’s car on Friday afternoon. By the time we reached my street, I was practically asleep against the seatbelt. Baz prodded me awake, letting a smile slip onto his face when he thought I wasn’t watching. I’d leant across and pecked him on the lips before hopping out of the car. </p>
<p>If catching up with the other actors hadn’t taken everything out of me, trying to decode my feelings for Baz surely has.</p>
<p>Ebb and I are in the kitchen making Saturday’s lunch when my phone buzzes against the counter. I expect it to be Penny checking in, especially since I bailed on her and Shep’s dinner plans last night, but I’m surprised to see the name ‘Baz’ flash up on my screen. </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>What are you doing?</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>Ebb glances over at me from where she’s stirring soup, “It doesn’t look like you’ve buttered all of that bread.” </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>Currently making lunch</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>“Sorry,” I say, barely looking up from my phone. The response comes through seconds later. </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>And after that? </em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>Nothing, why? </em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>“Who are you texting?” Ebb asks absent-mindedly. </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>You should come over. </em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>I bite my lip to stop myself from smiling. God. I must look like a little boy with a crush right now. Ebb keeps her eyes on the soup, waiting patiently for a response. It takes me a moment to remember what she asked, then I stammer, “Uh, um, just Baz.” </p>
<p>“Oh?” She hums, silently asking me to elaborate. </p>
<p>“I might go to his house after lunch. Is that okay?” I pick up the knife, going back to bread-duty. Ebb and I made it tradition for us to make lunch together on the weekends when we’re both free. But ever since the incident with the toaster, Ebb tends to do most of the work. </p>
<p>My mind begins to unravel, but all I really seem to think about is Baz. This past week, since I became Romeo, he’s been so patient with me. Despite how important the play is to him, he’s let me forget my lines, fumble over words and lose my nerve. </p>
<p>And he’s seemed . . . happier. When Finn was Romeo, Baz was happy too. Perfect, in fact. He was so perfect for the role that anybody could’ve played Romeo and Baz would’ve managed to still be the star of the show. But after weeks of observing the two of them, there’s a new light to Baz’s eyes now – a new, unmistakable glow. </p>
<p>But maybe that’s just wishful thinking on my part. Now that I’ve realised my feelings for Baz run deeper than I first thought, I could simply be seeking confirmation that it’s not unrequited. </p>
<p>“Of course,” Ebb says. “Do you want a lift?” </p>
<p>-</p>
<p>I can hear the sound of the doorbell ringing insistently through Baz’s house, reverberating along the walls. I glance back just in time to see Ebb driving back down the long, spirally driveway. She sends me a small wave before turning onto the main road and driving out of sight. </p>
<p>Baz’s house is . . . well, huge. I’d always known his family were wealthy – everyone in town knew his father owned some big business and that as a result of this, the Grimm-Pitch family were practically rolling in gold – but I wasn’t expecting this. </p>
<p>It looks old and full of history, with ivy climbing the brown bricks, weaving around the windowpanes. Despite the unkempt plants covering the house, the front garden is picture perfect, with pots of flowers, freshly trimmed grass and what appears to be an apple tree dead centre. They probably have a gardener. </p>
<p>The door flies open and I tear my eyes away from the garden to face Baz. Baz, leaning in the doorway of his mansion, his black hair tied back in a messy bun, wearing a t-shirt and a pair of . . . jogging bottoms. Baz. In black jogging bottoms. Baz in black, casual, tight jogging bottoms. </p>
<p>Baz clears his throat and I snap my mouth closed, tilting my head back up to meet his eyes. He looks amused in a soft sort of way. It’s an expression I’m not used to seeing on him, and it makes my stomach do a little flip. </p>
<p>“You came,” he says by way of greeting. </p>
<p>Unable to stop myself, I let my mouth curl into a cheeky grin. “I did,” I say, rocking back on my feet, still lingering outside his front door. </p>
<p>He bites the inside of his cheek, as if stopping himself from smiling too. Then he turns quickly and beckons me to follow. </p>
<p>He pauses briefly in the hallway, opening up a door under the stairs which appears to be a room just for shoes. I slip my trainers off and try several times to place them in a neat fashion next to the rest. When I hear him scoff from behind me, as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing, I give up and leave them as they are. </p>
<p>He leads me through the long hallway, past an array of closed doors, until we reach the kitchen. The kitchen is probably 3x the size of my bedroom, with a long marble island in the middle, a table and three chairs in the corner, and all the shelves and cupboards that you could imagine. </p>
<p>Baz opens the fridge and asks, “Would you like something to drink?” </p>
<p>“A water, please.” He nods and takes a jug from the fridge, filling two glasses. </p>
<p>“Did you bring your script?” Baz asks as he pours cold water into both glasses. A strand of hair falls free from the bun and hangs down over his face, but he makes no move to brush it away. </p>
<p>I pat my backpack, “Of course.” Baz had texted me after my lunch to make sure I remembered to bring it.</p>
<p>He places my glass on the island and slides it over to me. I catch it in my hand and take a sip as he rifles through the cupboards searching for something. After a moment, he holds a big bag of popcorn up to me. </p>
<p>“Please tell me you like popcorn.” </p>
<p>“Sweet or salty?” </p>
<p>“Both.” </p>
<p>“The proper way to eat popcorn,” I say, nodding my appreciation. </p>
<p>“I do agree, but I’m hesitant to listen to anything you say about food since the milkshake and fries incident.” </p>
<p>I roll my eyes but can’t seem to deliver a snarky response. The loose strand of hair has caught my attention, dark against his pale cheeks. I purse my lips for a moment, considering. </p>
<p>Unable to stop myself, I step into the distance between us, not quite close enough that we’re touching, but enough to see the surprising effect I can have on him. We’ve been kissing and touching a lot recently, but that doesn’t stop the exhilarating feelings of something so new and electric every time I get close to him. Each time is like the first – the suspense, the relief, the desire. </p>
<p>His eyes are narrowed, in a way that used to be telling of his irritation and suspicion towards me. Now, it’s more of a curiosity – every time, as if he’s trying hard to place the clues together and unravel my thoughts. </p>
<p>I reach my hand out slowly towards his face, my forefinger brushing his sharp cheekbones as I tuck the strand of hair behind his ear. His eyes stay on me, lips slightly parted. </p>
<p>“Sorry,” I mutter, retracting my hand. “I just, uh, wanted to do that.” </p>
<p>It’s becoming a problem now. Baz wants this – <em>this</em> being the physical side of our deal. The kissing and the touching. Maybe, spending the time he did not being out at school, he’s simply looking for a guy to willingly and happily snog him, no feelings attached – and supposedly, he’s found one in me. </p>
<p>That’s all he wants. That’s all it was supposed to be. I was stupid to even think that it was possible to keep my feelings caged away from this agreement, especially with the way Baz is gazing at me now, grey eyes wide and open. </p>
<p>But <em>this</em> – me tucking Baz’s hair behind his ear, me doing silly affectionate and boyfriend-like things – is <em>not</em> part of the deal. <em>His</em> deal. </p>
<p>Before he has any time to scavenge for a response, a figure comes waltzing into the kitchen. I step back from Baz as she makes her presence known, standing with a hand on her hip. I can see the resemblance to Baz immediately, in the long, dark hair and her tall, slim frame. </p>
<p>“Basilton, I didn’t know you had company,” she says, eyebrows raised as she looks from Baz to me and back again. </p>
<p>“Fiona, I didn’t know you were here,” Baz says, sending her an irritated expression. </p>
<p>“You know me, I love to surprise,” she says, baring her teeth in a smile. It’s a wicked sort of a smile – the same kind I’ve seen on Baz whenever he’s planning a venomous comeback. </p>
<p>Baz huffs out a snarky laugh before turning to gesture in my direction, “Fiona, this is Simon Snow. Snow, this is my aunt.”</p>
<p>I plaster on a polite and awkward smile, “Nice to meet you.” </p>
<p>She peers at me, a scrutinising gaze that seems to last hours, before she simply hums, “Simon Snow.” Baz opens his mouth to intercept her next train of thought, but before he can get the chance, Fiona says, “So, this is the famous Simon Snow. I’ve heard a lot about you.” </p>
<p>She sends a very knowing look over towards Baz. I gulp, mind reeling with the possibilities. Baz has hated me since year 7. In all those years, he’s had a lot to say about me. All those years I spent tangled in his web, antagonising him, insulting him, delving deeper for an answer: <em>why did he hate me so much?</em> </p>
<p>“Fiona,” Baz warns. </p>
<p>She curls her lips upwards, reaching into the fruit bowl placed in the middle of the island and popping a green grape into her mouth. “I heard you’re playing Romeo,” Fiona says to me, blatantly ignoring Baz.</p>
<p>“Uh, yes, yeah I am,” I say. </p>
<p>“We’re looking forward to opening night,” she says conversationally. “Baz is quite the star on stage.” </p>
<p>Baz scoffs. “We’re leaving now.” </p>
<p>“So soon?” Fiona pouts. </p>
<p>“Goodbye, Fiona,” Baz says, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. He picks up the popcorn in one hand, his glass in the other, and nods at me to follow. </p>
<p>“Bye,” I say meekly, glancing back at Fiona. She’s watching me with a thoughtful expression on her face, as if we’re locked in a tense card game, as if she’s trying to work out whether I’m bluffing or not. </p>
<p>Baz leads me up the winding staircase and along another long hallway, this one lined with a deep red carpet. He stops at one of the doors and pushes it open with his foot. </p>
<p>It’s unmistakably Baz’s room. His huge queen-sized bed in the centre of the room, his long wall of bookshelves, stacked neatly with different plays and classic fiction books. Baz’s large front window encased by heavy burgundy drapes, with cushioned seating on the broad windowsill. </p>
<p>He doesn’t hesitate, walking over to his bedside table and placing his glass of water there. He sits cross-legged on his clean, made-up bed. I should be embarrassed really, considering I let him see the state of my room, whilst his is this tidy. </p>
<p> “Sorry about Fiona,” Baz says, startling me out of my thoughts. I wander over slowly, putting my water next to his and sitting across from him. His bed dips with my weight. </p>
<p>“It’s fine,” I say, offering him a sheepish smile. “I hate to think what you told her about me.” </p>
<p>To my surprise, his pale cheeks start to ripen into a cherry-red and he looks away, down at the popcorn, fumbling to open the bag. </p>
<p>“Did you want to run through lines?” I ask when I realise he’s not going to respond. <em>Is that the reason you invited me here?</em> </p>
<p>He shrugs, then nods, taking his script from his bedside table and opening it to the first page. “Which scene?” </p>
<p>“How about . . .” I take my own from my backpack, finding the last scene in Act 1 (the Capulet party) and clearing my throat, “the end of Act 1?” </p>
<p>He flips to the same page as me, scanning across the pages, lips quirking when he glances at the very end. He starts the scene without argument, reciting Joseph’s line with his usual perfection. His effortless and endearing acting abilities evident; he barely glances at his script, instead solely focusing on me. </p>
<p>It makes it difficult to look away. Romeo and Joseph are falling in love. Love at first sight. Romeo and I are the same, in that Joseph and Baz, these beautiful, mysterious boys, have stolen our hearts and left the room with them. </p>
<p>The scene ends with Romeo and Joseph’s first kiss. Baz must’ve already realised, because he has this soft, knowing smile on his lips. My eyes are glued there, anticipation buzzing in my veins as I lean across the bed. </p>
<p>I whisper my last lines against his lips, closer now with a hand pressed into the bed, holding me up. I’m not supposed to be so close for this line. At this point, Romeo is still supposed to be at a distance from Joseph, but I can’t help it. Baz doesn’t seem to mind, if the pink tips of his ears are anything to go by. He huffs out a sigh against my mouth, lips parting, grey eyes flickering over my face. </p>
<p>He runs a hand along my shoulders to cup the back of my neck. The tension in the air is thickening, the desire to close the distance between our lips singing in my body. </p>
<p>He closes it for me. His lips press to mine, chaste and innocent and airy. That’s all the stage kiss is supposed to be – a long, lingering peck. And yet when Baz pulls away, his eyes are darker, gazing up at me through his dark eyelashes. <em>Beautiful. </em></p>
<p>He blinks several times, as if trying to ground himself. With inhuman patience, I watch him try to solve this puzzle. </p>
<p>Moments pass, until all of a sudden, Baz is surging across the bed, his arms sliding over my shoulders for support as he crashes our mouths together. He pulls me down on top of him, his back settling against his bed. I hold myself up with my legs bracketing his hips and arms on either side of his head. </p>
<p>He kisses me with a sudden urgency. A hot insistence; his mouth opening around mine. My tongue slides against his and he lets out a small, uncontrollable groan. I take it as a good sign, tilting my head to one side to kiss him harder, his head pressing back into the silky covers over his bed. </p>
<p>His hands scramble against my shoulders, using them for purchase when I start to kiss down his neck. The sounds he lets loose are breathy and persistent and eager. </p>
<p>A dream. <em>My life is a dream,</em> I realise as I lift my head enough to catch Baz’s eyes. He’s breathing heavily, his arms still wrapped around my neck, his cheeks a rosy colour. </p>
<p>“Mouth breather,” he mutters, in a playful, snarky manner. I slam my mouth closed, wrinkling up my nose at the nickname. He lets out a giggle. An actual giggle. It’s quiet and private and <em>beautiful</em>. His hand reaches up, cupping my jaw softly, thumb brushing my chin. </p>
<p>It's warm and intimate and much too much all at once. His shadowy eyes have this softness; his expression and the hold he has on me so personal and welcoming. </p>
<p>He says, “Shall we practice another scene?” </p>
<p>I let out an undeniable sigh, which he beams at, and sit back on his legs. He rests up on his elbows, levelling me with an unimpressed stare as I reach for my script. I flip to the scene I’m looking for in Act 2, then I show him, “This one.” </p>
<p>He glances down at my page, recognising it immediately and narrowing his eyes at me. “Is there a reason you’ve picked that one?” </p>
<p>“I don’t think so,” I say, feigning innocence. </p>
<p>Despite his suspicion, when I start rolling off the lines from the script, he recites his own perfectly. And when we reach the part in the scene where Romeo and Joseph kiss again, he initiates it without hesitation, pulling me down to straddle him once again. </p>
<p>The kiss is electric. Everything with Baz is. I feel like I’m on fire by the time Baz pulls back, his lips another shade of red. </p>
<p>I hum thoughtfully, pushing Baz’s hair out of his face, “I’m not sure.” </p>
<p>“What aren’t you sure about?” Baz asks, biting his lip and observing me through dark eyelashes.</p>
<p>“That kiss,” I say, a stupid smile making it’s way onto my face. “We might need to practice that again.” </p>
<p>Baz raises an eyebrow, “Oh really?” </p>
<p>“Mm.” I lean forward and close the space between us. </p>
<p>We do practice the kiss again, just to make sure it’s perfect. </p>
<p>And again. </p>
<p>And again. </p>
<p>And again. </p>
<p>-</p>
<p>Things are different by the time Monday’s rehearsal rolls around. As he stalks into the hall, Baz has this tense set to his shoulders and a dangerous look of irritation in his eyes. Agatha immediately warns Penny and I to steer clear of him. </p>
<p>It doesn’t take long to work out why. Miss Possibelf announces at the beginning of rehearsals that we only have two weeks left until opening night. She says rehearsals will be taking place every day after school from now on to ensure we have enough time to perfect the play. </p>
<p>I like to consider myself an optimistic person, but even I know this does not give us enough time. </p>
<p>So for the rest of rehearsals, my nerves make a very unwelcome reappearance. Every time I step forward to read my lines, I’m practically vibrating with stress; my words tumble out in a cloud of uncertainty. There’s a gaping absence of real talent – I’m simply reading the lines as the nervous schoolboy I am. </p>
<p>When I forget my lines for the third time, Baz snaps. The calm clears, making way for a storm of annoyance and exasperation – Baz’s cold, angry gaze directly on me. He lets out a sigh, breaking character to pinch the bridge of his nose. </p>
<p>“This is hopeless,” Baz announces, his voice like ice. </p>
<p>“Let’s take a break,” Miss Possibelf says kindly. </p>
<p>It doesn’t get better after that. But by the time I’m climbing into Baz’s car, he seems to have found his calm composure. His palms are on the steering wheel but his grip is loose; he sends me a slight nod as I close the door and buckle my seatbelt. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry for today,” I tell him as he reverses out of the school carpark. </p>
<p>He exhales, pursing his lips and shaking his head slightly, “It’s fine. I was just in a bad mood.” </p>
<p>“That’s okay.” </p>
<p>He keeps his focus on the road ahead. </p>
<p>“Can I ask a question?” He hums in response, which I take to mean yes. I say, “Why does this play mean so much to you? I mean, I know you love Drama, and you’re an amazing actor. But when you found out I was Finn’s understudy, I thought you were going to kill me.” </p>
<p>He huffs out a sort of laugh, glancing over at me for a second before adjusting his gaze at the road. “This play is different.” I stay silent, waiting for him to explain. After a moment, he takes one hand of the steering wheel to gesture as he talks: “This is more real to me. My whole life I knew I was different to the other boys. I used to have friends over at my house and we’d watch all the stupid films where these cool guys rescued the attractive women. And every time the women were on screen, my friends would hoot and laugh and –”</p>
<p>He cuts himself off and veers the car down a different road. </p>
<p>He continues, “I knew I liked guys pretty early on in my life. But there was never any representation on the telly, in books, in theatre. Nothing. Everything was so . . . heteronormative. It still is really.”</p>
<p>I think of the way our school latched onto Agatha and Baz’s friendship and immediately called it a romance. Baz’s carelessness when it came to denying the rumours, as if it was easier to just fit in. </p>
<p>“This play is <em>different</em>,” Baz says. “I want people to see two male characters who have this <em>real</em> and <em>genuine</em> romance, and who are given a happy ending that they deserve. And if there are other kids in our school, struggling like I was, I want them to see, and to know that there is nothing wrong with them. That they are loved. That things will get better.” </p>
<p>-</p>
<p>Tuesday is a good day. Unlike the day before, there is no tension when we walk into rehearsals – only a clear understanding and an obligation to do better. </p>
<p>Things are made even better by Miss Possibelf’s announcement: “Okay, so I’ve taken some time to consider things – like how ready we are for opening night and how much more time we might need. And I’ve spoken to my superiors and we’ve made the decision to postpone opening night until the second week after Christmas break.” </p>
<p>An array of reactions echo across the hall. Miss Possibelf quietens them with a loud hush. </p>
<p>“This is the best thing for the play. It will give us the time to get everything together and make sure we are at our absolute best. We’ll continue to meet every day for rehearsals, but if this is a problem for anyone, please let me know.”</p>
<p>A surge of relief runs through me. I was not ready to be performing to an audience in two weeks time. I was terrified I was going to let everyone down. With these extra weeks, I can focus on learning my lines and being the best Romeo I can be. For the cast. For Miss Possibelf. For Baz. </p>
<p>Backstage, before we’re expected for a scene, I pull Baz aside. I search his face for any signs of anger at Miss Possibelf’s news, but I find none. Instead, he seems relaxed and content, rocking back on his heels like he’s . . . excited. </p>
<p>“What do you think?” I ask him. “About the play being postponed?” </p>
<p>His lips quirk upwards, like he’s endeared by my concern. “It’s for the best. Gives us more time to make the play perfect.” </p>
<p>I nod in agreement, scratching the back of my neck. My voice is quieter when I ask, “Hey, so, does this mean you’re driving me home every day now that rehearsals are every day?” </p>
<p>He sighs, feigning irritation. The small smile still on his lips gives him away. He says, “I suppose if I have to.” </p>
<p>And I hadn’t realised it before, but if the play is postponed until after Christmas, that means the time Baz and I spend in his car is extended too. We have time. More weeks of the kissing, the touching and the feelings fogging my brain and my thoughts and – </p>
<p>How am I ever going to revert to a world where I didn’t know what being with Baz Pitch felt like? </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>any feedback is appreciated :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Thus with a Kiss I Die</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Baz stays the night at Simon's. Miss Possibelf wants them to rehearse Romeo &amp; Joseph's first kiss.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hellooo!! i'm sorry for not updating in a while. i've had a really eventful week or so. but i'm here with a new update. it's not amazing or anything but it's here. </p><p>this chapter is a bit saucy, but it's mostly just implied. i'm going to change the rating to 'mature' and add 'implied sexual content' to the tags because i think that might be a more appropriate rating. let me know if you have any other thoughts! </p><p>also i'm not very good at writing intimacy. or i don't write it very often. but i gave it a go! pls be kind :)))</p><p>i'm really trying to write simon and baz as the awkward teens they are, getting to know somebody they fancy and exploring. </p><p>oh! also! i didn't realise the plan i wrote for chapter 8 was so huge, so i might actually be able to extend this into 10 parts instead. i'll see what happens when i'm writing the next few parts. </p><p>thank you for the support! xx</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>At Friday’s rehearsal, I notice the startling change of tension in the air between Baz and me. Or, more accurately, I notice when <em>Penny</em> notices it. </p><p>It’s during the ten-minute break that Miss Possibelf allowed us. Baz’s group and Penny and I are sat in the back row of the audience. Niall is telling us a story about one of his teachers and we’re all laughing at his stupid impressions. I catch Baz’s eye when he’s got his hand in front of his mouth to hide his big grin. It’s as though he can tell I’m itching to push his hand away, so he does it himself. </p><p>His eyes are still bright with laughter even when he presses his lips together in a closed-mouth smile. It takes me a moment to realise I’ve missed the rest of Niall’s story, and that Penny is staring right at me. </p><p>She furrows her eyebrows at me, forming an expression I can’t read. Then she says to the group, “Simon actually fell asleep in biology class last week. Right on his hand, like this.” She mimics it, letting out a fake snore, and the group chuckles. </p><p>“How can you even fall asleep like that?” Agatha asks. “That looks so uncomfortable.” </p><p>I shrug with a small smile on my face. Then Baz says, “Typical Snow.” I look over at him. He’s got his arms crossed over his chest now and his eyebrows raised, like he’s challenging me. I wonder if he’s remembering the time I almost fell asleep in his car on the drive home. </p><p>It's something Baz might’ve said to me before the play – before the kissing. He would say it in a cruel, sarcastic way; his expression cold and fierce. Now, he looks playful and almost . . . soft. </p><p>“Fuck off,” I respond to him, not unkindly. There’s no real heat behind my words, and a smile spreads across my face. He bites his lip to stop himself from grinning again, and it’s almost too much all at once. Too much warmth, too many feelings. </p><p>I watch the moment confusion spreads over Penny’s features, and when Miss Possibelf calls us back to the stage, my best friend follows me backstage and leans in close to mutter, “You and Baz seem close. He wanted to kill you like five minutes ago.” </p><p>Surprised, I school a look of indifference onto my face and shrug, “Maybe it’s because I’m playing Romeo now. Things are different.” </p><p>She seems unhappy with the response, but doesn’t try to carry on the conversation. Instead, she slips onto the stage to get into position for the next scene. </p><p>I decide not to tell Baz about Penny’s speculation, concluding that it’ll only make him worry that somebody is going to find out about us. Perhaps it’s selfish of me, but Penny a) isn’t going to find out and b) wouldn’t tell anybody about it even if she did know. </p><p>Baz doesn’t know Penny like I do. But if he won’t even tell Agatha – who is, essentially, his Penny – then there’s no hope of him trusting anybody else. </p><p>Baz is in a good mood later that day when I jump into the passenger’s seat of his car. He watches me pull the seatbelt across my body and click it into place, a private smile playing at his lips. Even when he starts the car, driving us out of the school carpark, he still has a soft sort of happiness hinting around the edges of his mood. </p><p>We don’t say very much for the entire journey home, but the silence is comfortable and pleasant. Baz keeps stealing glances at me from across the two seats; his happiness is radiating off him in waves, making my cheeks feel warm with something different and fond. </p><p>There’s something different happening between us – something new that’s been growing and growing since the moment I kissed Baz onstage, hiding behind the character of Romeo like a shadow. It’s been here all along, but it’s only becoming clear now. Since I planted lovebites down his neck. Since I went to his house on the weekend. Since I decided I would do whatever it takes to make this play perfect, for him. </p><p>Whatever it is – these feelings – I think he can feel them too. When he pulls up on the curb outside my house and turns to me with this chilling heat behind his eyes, I’m pretty sure he knows. I’m pretty sure it’s written all over my face – permanently, like a tattoo I might learn to regret. </p><p>“You were so good today,” I say, my voice low in my throat. </p><p>He blinks, surprised in a bashful sort of way. Surprise looks good on him. It’s something you don’t see often with Baz Pitch, but it makes his eyes look beautiful and wide, and his cheeks tint a pale pinkish colour. He says, “Thanks, Romeo.” </p><p>I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from smiling. His eyes travel swiftly down to my mouth and up again, so I ask, “Can I kiss you?” </p><p>He bites his lip, which distracts me momentarily, before saying, “I don’t know. Can you?”</p><p>I roll my eyes. “I want to. Do you want me to?”</p><p>He’s already leaning forward before I’ve even finished asking, tilting his chin forward invitingly. His eyes are practically shining, cloudy grey. He hums in response, nodding slightly, and I lean across the two seats to capture his lips with mine. </p><p>He lets out his usual sigh, shoulders relaxing, as though kissing me makes all the tension just melt away. It’s one of my favourite things about kissing him. The way he lets go, surrenders, as if he trusts me to be careful. </p><p>His right hand reaches over and runs up the nape of my neck, clutching at my curls. Another favourite thing of mine – when he touches my hair. Then his other hand, cupping my jaw affectionately. That has to be a favourite too. </p><p>It’s another one of my favourite things when he lets me guide him, tilting my head one way to deepen the kiss. And when my tongue teases his bottom lip and he gasps, opening his mouth willingly, eager and content. Then, when our kisses turn open-mouthed and intense and he’s breathing heavily against me and kissing me with a newfound curiosity, a newfound intensity and I pull back just slightly to ask – </p><p>“Do you – uh, do you want to come inside?” He blinks his eyes open slowly, pressing his reddened lips together. I explain, “Um, Ebb isn’t home.” </p><p>There it is again. That look of surprise. But I don’t get to admire it for long because soon enough, he’s clambering out of the car. I follow, a tad too enthusiastically, and when my jelly-like legs hit the ground, I almost fall straight on my arse.</p><p>Baz is by the front of his car, laughing at me with a hand covering his mouth. It’s a blissful sound, so I can’t even find it in me to scowl at him. Instead, I storm over, taking the hand that’s covering his face and lacing his fingers with mine before tugging him towards my house. </p><p>We kick our shoes off in the hallway. Baz barely has the chance to line up his boots neatly beside each other before I’m pressing him against the hallway wall and kissing the stunned expression off of his face. He kisses back fervently, eyes fluttering when I pull at his bottom lip. </p><p>His look of disappointment when I pull away completely is something I never thought I would see. He’s almost pouting, his lips puckered slightly. I take his hand in mine again and pull him towards the stairs. </p><p>Tripping on the way up was inevitable. Baz’s loud laughter echoes across the hallway, dissolving into quieter giggles when I turn to look at him over my shoulder. I take two steps back, pressing my front against Baz’s and consequently pushing him against the banister. His breath hitches, the smile slipping from his mouth, when my body is touching his completely – chest to toes. </p><p>He shoves my shoulder when I start to smirk, and I lead him the rest of the way up the stairs and onto the landing. His hand is still laced with mine, his long pale fingers squeezing carefully as I push the door of my bedroom open. </p><p>He lets go of my hand in favour of sitting on the edge of my bed, glancing at the pile of books by my bed. The top one, of course, being Shakespeare’s ‘Romeo &amp; Juliet’. Baz doesn’t say anything about it, but he touches the front cover and raises an eyebrow. </p><p>I let the door to my bedroom swing closed. Baz glances up as I make my way over to the bed and he asks, “Where’s Ebb?” </p><p>“Working late.” </p><p>“Until when?” </p><p>I shrug, “Couple more hours at least.” </p><p>He nods, looking everywhere in the room except for at me. It’s like he’s hit with nerves all of a sudden. Baz, who can perform a play to an audience of thousands, is nervous to be sat alone with me in my messy bedroom. </p><p>I cross my legs, sitting back against the headboard. Cautiously, I say, “Can I ask a question?” </p><p>He eyes me warily, “You can ask. I might not answer.” </p><p>I tap my hands against my knees and carefully word my question. I settle for: “Have you, um, ever been with a guy before? Before me, I mean.” </p><p>He gulps, looking down at his legs, long and sprawled out across my bed. He doesn’t respond for so long that I wonder if he’s going to. </p><p>It’s a question that’s played on my mind a few times. And it’s simply curiosity and my own nosiness that’s led me to finally ask. His answer won’t change anything that’s going on between us – I just wonder whether I’m the first boy he’s allowed himself to be with. </p><p>He sighs and says, “There’s been some guys. This guy at drama club who I made out with a few times. Awkward moments at parties. But never anything like –”</p><p>
  <em>This. </em>
</p><p>He cuts himself off suddenly, his eyes widening as if he can’t believe what he almost said. <em>This. This. This. This. </em></p><p>
  <em>Never anything like this. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>What is this? </em>
</p><p>He licks his lips and catches my eyes, “What about you?” </p><p>“I’ve kissed girls before. And Max kissed me at that party, but I don’t know if that really counts. And you.” </p><p>
  <em>But it’s never been like this before. Never anything like this. Never anything like this. Never anything like this. </em>
</p><p>When he licks his lips again, his gaze lands on my mouth and he takes the leap, crawling slowly across the bed to where I’m sat against the headboard. Placing his arms either side of my legs to hold himself up, he doesn’t even hesitate before pressing his lips to mine. </p><p>He opens his mouth immediately, gliding his tongue against mine. It’s hazy and intoxicating all at once and he lets out a breathy gasp when my teeth scrape his lip. His hands are still digging into the mattress to keep himself up, so I run my fingers down his sides, hand curving around his hip and pulling him onto my lap. He grunts in surprise, settling carefully on top of me. </p><p>Kissing Baz is a blessing. He quickly becomes impatient, his lips moving faster, his chest heaving. I tangle my fingers in his hair to push the dark locks out of his face. My hands quickly find their way back to his hips. He squirms in my lap, rocking slightly when my hands slip into the back pocket of his jeans. </p><p>The sudden pool of desire rising low in my stomach hits me like a truck. It’s not a new feeling. It’s especially not new since Baz and I first started whatever this is, but it’s the first time Baz and I have been pressed together close enough to know the feelings are reciprocated. </p><p>I can tell he’s noticed too when he tries to bring himself closer to me and ends up letting out a muffled sound of surprise. I tell him through the hard press of lips and the soft slide of my tongue against his that <em>I want this. </em></p><p>I push away from the headboard and carefully lay Baz on his back, straddling his hips and hovering on all fours above him. He breaks the kiss momentarily; his pupils are blown wide, his dark eyelashes stark against the pale colour of his cheeks. </p><p>A lazy smirk spreads across my lips and he glances down at it, eyelashes fluttering. I place one hand hesitantly at the hem of his shirt. His mouth is slightly parted, breaths coming out heavy as I ask, “Can I take this off?” </p><p>He nods immediately, muttering, “Yeah,” and keeping his eyes intently on me as I reach for the first button. My fingers are fumbling to undo them, making my way slowly down his chest before peeling the shirt back completely. My mouth falls open embarrassingly at the sight. </p><p>Baz’s chest, which I caught a glimpse of in the boy’s changing rooms, is completely exposed. He’s all lean and long and slim, hints of muscle in his stomach. And he’s got these collarbones, where the hickey I left has almost twisted into something completely invisible. </p><p>He huffs impatiently when I can’t seem to stop myself from staring, arching his back up to pull the shirt from his arms and toss it onto the floor. He rests up on his elbows, eyes bright as he nods down at my own t-shirt. Understanding what that look means, I reach for the hem of it and throw it across the room. </p><p>Baz gulps. His eyes roam my chest, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. A rush of pride runs through me. I don’t think I’ve ever been looked at like that by anybody, but it’s terrifyingly intoxicating. </p><p>Baz lets his weight rest on one elbow, reaching up with his other hand to trace patterns against my chest. A shiver runs through me under his soft touch and he exhales sharply, eyes drifting up to meet mine again. </p><p>He sees something on my face that makes him smirk. I incline my head slightly, pressing my hands into the duvet either side of his head and leaning down. He falls back against the bed, no longer resting on his elbows, and closes his eyes before my lips touch his. </p><p>Baz sighs, twisting a hand into my curls and tugging. The other hand maps out a path from my neck down to the hint of a v-line; his hands are icy and cold, sending more shivers down my spine. He smiles into the kiss until I bite at his bottom lip, a sound falling from his mouth. </p><p>His hand pauses uncertainly at the waistline of my jeans, but his mouth never stops. He kisses me like it’s a challenge – like it’s a fight he won’t back down from. He arches his back slightly, his body brushing against mine, igniting a breath of fire. The flames flicker low in my belly, uncontrollable. </p><p>Baz’s fingernails pointedly scrape against my v-line and he pulls away from my mouth ever so slightly, just to whisper, “Is this okay?” </p><p>“Yes,” I say into his mouth. </p><p>When Baz’s hand slips past my jeans, I let out an obscene sound. The fire is spreading along my abdomen, lower and lower and lower. The flames dance along to the beat of Baz’s fingers, advancing into the press of my tongue against his. And right when it becomes too much – when I’m burning up, sweltering, igniting – Baz is there to put out the fire. </p><p>And then I return the favour. </p><p>-</p><p>It feels as though I’ve been dreaming by the time I wake up on Saturday morning. My eyes flutter open slowly, becoming accustomed to the light flooding in through the open curtains. </p><p>My hand slides across the mattress to the other side of the bed, expecting to find Baz lying sleepily beside me, but it’s empty. There’s an imprint against the pillow where his head was but, sitting up abruptly, I realise he’s nowhere in sight. </p><p>My mind leads me back to the night before. I tried to cook pasta for Baz, but it was a pretty poor attempt until he took over chef duties in the kitchen. Then Ebb came home, chatted with me and Baz for a while before we slipped back to my room. When I asked him to stay the night, I was expecting him to outright refuse. I wasn’t expecting him to blush and say, “Only if that’s okay with Ebb.” </p><p>Blinking around the room, I push my curls off my forehead, searching for a sign that Baz hasn’t left. It doesn’t take long for me to find the neat pile of clothes he left on my desk chair last night before he had changed into a pair of my pyjamas. I let myself relax. He’s probably just in the bathroom. </p><p>Then I hear Ebb’s loud laughter, followed by a stream of chatter coming from downstairs. I throw on a jumper and head towards the door, the sound of two voices getting louder with every step I take. </p><p>Baz is stood with his back against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed over his chest and a pretty smile on his lips. Ebb, still chatting away, not realising I’ve entered the room, is busy flipping pancakes. </p><p>“Simon! You finally decided to join us,” Ebb says when she catches sight of me. She turns back around to the pancakes. </p><p>“Sorry, I slept quite late,” I mumble sleepily, rubbing my eyes a little. </p><p>Baz seems amused when I blink up at him. He’s wearing a pair of my sweatpants and a sweatshirt he must’ve found on the floor of my bedroom. “Morning,” he says with a glint in his eyes. </p><p>“Morning,” I respond, a little taken back by the sight of him. </p><p>Ebb says, “You want pancakes, Simon?” </p><p>“Please.”</p><p>“I was just telling Baz about how I’ve been trying to teach you how to cook.” She keeps her back to me, but I can hear the smile on her face. “He said the pasta last night went well.” </p><p>Baz scoffs. I exclaim, “Hey, I had it under control.” </p><p>“Sure you did,” Baz teases. </p><p>My stomach flips. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m hungry, or still drowsy from sleep, but Baz in my kitchen wearing my clothes and getting along so well with Ebb – </p><p>It’s all so domestic. I have to remind myself that Baz is not my boyfriend and this, here, between us, is not permanent. Baz will inevitably end things when the play is over. And I’ll pretend that’s fine by me. </p><p>“I can finish these pancakes if you two want to go sit in the living room or something.” </p><p>We both nod at each other in silent agreement, thanking Ebb before wandering out of the kitchen and towards the corner sofa in front of the telly. Baz collapses onto it, pulling his legs up into a more comfortable position. </p><p>“Are you okay?” He asks when he notices me staring. </p><p>“Yes,” I say honestly. Baz is here in my house with me, and we spent the most amazing night together. ‘Okay’ doesn’t even begin to cover it. “I thought you might’ve left when I woke up.” </p><p>“Oh.” He sits forward slightly, leaning a bit closer across the sofas and furrowing his eyebrows. “I didn’t want to wake you. I bumped into Ebb on the way to the bathroom and she offered to make breakfast.” </p><p>I smile, but it’s a weak attempt, and I know he can tell it’s forced. My heart is beating a bit too much, loud against my ribcage, my eyes focused in on Baz’s handsome features. </p><p>“I’m glad you stayed the night. I had a lot of fun,” I tell him, hoping he can sense the sincerity. </p><p>“I did too,” he says, and I’m almost grateful when Ebb chooses that moment to enter the living room with two plates of pancakes. It’s all becoming too much. </p><p>Later, when Baz has changed back into his clothes, hesitated in my doorway and then clambered into his car, Ebb finds me in my bedroom staring into space. She says, “Baz is such a lovely young man! You should have him over more often.” </p><p>I roll onto my front, head nestled into the pillows to avoid Ebb seeing my obvious blush. </p><p>-</p><p>I’m sat beside Penny on the edge of the stage during our rehearsal break. My legs are swinging back and forth, not even close to the ground, when she says, “I’ve been a terrible friend.” </p><p>I stare at her in confusion, “No, you haven’t. What do you mean?” </p><p> “I’ve barely seen you at all these past couple of months.”</p><p>She turns to face me, crossing her legs in front and frowning. I say, “I see you every day at school, Pen.” </p><p>“But never outside of school anymore. Tell me, honestly, have I been a terrible friend since Shep and I got together?” </p><p>“No,” I say, the guilt catching up to me. I’m the one keeping secrets from her. If only Penny knew what I’d really been doing with all of my free time. “Besides, there’s two of us in this friendship. I should be making an effort too.” </p><p>She visibly relaxes, her shoulders sagging and a small smile inching at her mouth. “You’ve become very wise recently. Like an old man.” </p><p>I laugh, pushing her shoulder lightly and saying, “Oh, bugger off.” </p><p>She giggles, “That’s exactly what an old man would say.” </p><p>I roll my eyes, a burst of serotonin bubbling up, bringing my attention to the fact that<em> I have missed this</em>. Me and Penny and the easiness of it all. I miss a time when there wasn’t the barrier of a huge secret between us. </p><p>But if there was no secret, there would be no me and Baz. And right now I can’t remember what it felt like to not feel my heart expand to a thousand times this size every time he catches my eye, so – </p><p>Really, I guess what I’m saying is that I can’t take these past couple of months back, and I wouldn’t want to, but I at least wish Penny knew about it too.</p><p>Miss Possibelf’s orders bring me out of my thoughts: “Okay, we’re going to get back to work. I think it’s time we try the kiss between Romeo and Joseph. Let’s start with the first kiss at the Capulet party.” </p><p>I find Baz sat with Dev, Niall and Agatha in the front row of chairs. He’s already looking at me by the time my eyes seek him out of the crowd, and anyone else might think his facial expression is completely blank, but I’ve gotten used to reading it by now. There’s a slight curve to his lips, and his eyes are ablaze where the onstage lighting is hitting his face. </p><p>I’d call that expression his quiet amusement. Or subtle excitement, maybe. </p><p>And when Penny elbows me in the hip, I wipe the fond look off my own face and turn to face her. She whispers, “That’s going to be weird.” </p><p>“Huh?” I stare at her dumbly. </p><p>“Kissing Baz,” she mutters. “Baz, as in the guy you’ve hated since forever.” </p><p>“I never said –” I swallow my own objections, sighing, before saying reasonably, “We’ve been very civil recently. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” </p><p>For a moment, Penny looks at me like I’m a stranger. Then she relaxes and allows the hint of a smirk to crawl onto her mouth. She quotes: “From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.”</p><p>I scoff, standing up from the stage and brushing off my jeans. </p><p>Not ten minutes later, Baz and I are stood facing each other, preparing for our ‘first kiss’. Miss Possibelf is explaining something, but I can hardly hear her over the thrum of my chest. </p><p>Baz and I really did share our first kiss on this stage. Nearly two months ago now, when Baz asked me to practice lines with him. Whatever I’d expected from his request, it wasn’t this. But boy, glancing at his face now, shining against the bright lights on the stage, am I glad he asked me to kiss him that day.  </p><p>We run through the meeting scene as we have done so many times before. Baz plays Joseph consistently well every time, but I can feel myself becoming increasingly nervous in the build-up to the kiss. Baz notices too, and the look he gives me is so <em>Baz</em> that I immediately gather myself together and recite Romeo’s lines to my best abilities.</p><p>My eyes glance back at the script. I don’t really need it anymore, as my lines have been practically imprinted in my brain, but it’s still comforting to hold. The stage direction clearly reads ‘<em><strong>Romeo kisses Joseph</strong></em>’ and, well, I’m very happy to do that. </p><p>Baz is by far the best person I have ever kissed. One thing that these past few weeks have taught me is that I cannot get enough of him. The way his eyes light up when he realises I’m going to kiss him. The way he runs his fingers through my hair. </p><p>It happens now. He has this glint behind his eyes when I look up at him, his lips forming the beginning of a smile. I lift my free hand to cup his cheek, my thumb running over his cheekbone affectionately before leaning in to capture his lips with mine. He lets out that infuriatingly satisfying sigh against me, body loosening. </p><p>His hands instinctively end up at the nape of my neck, gently touching my curly hair there. The kiss is supposed to be passionate, but short. Five seconds maybe. Despite the itching desire to carry on kissing Baz, I focus on where we are, what we’re doing and the fact that now I need to pull away from him. </p><p>I do, reluctantly. I pull back slightly, just enough to still feel his breaths against my mouth. His eyes open slowly and he blinks at me, his face warm. Something akin to happiness surfaces in my chest. </p><p>We turn to face Miss Possibelf at the same time. I don’t even dare look at anyone other than her, terrified that my face will give it all away. Miss Possibelf, however, looks pleased. She tells us the kiss looks very natural and she has no notes for it. ‘No notes’ from Miss Possibelf is the highest of compliments, and I can tell Baz is proud by the way he’s fidgeting slightly. </p><p>I’m glad I don’t glance across at Penny’s reaction. I’m nervous at what I might find if I do. </p><p>-</p><p>“That went pretty well, don’t you think?” I say to Baz on the drive home. He drums his fingers against the steering wheel and hums. My tone turns lighter, “Do you think everyone could tell how badly you wanted to keep kissing me?” </p><p>He scoffs, “<em>Me</em>? That’s rich coming from you, Snow.”</p><p>“Why is it rich?” </p><p>“You had that stupid look on your face,” he explains, keeping his eyes trained on the road.</p><p>“Can’t help it,” I admit. “Did you think it went well though?” </p><p>“Miss Possibelf seemed to think so,” he says, which isn’t technically answering my question. </p><p>“And what did you think?” </p><p>He shrugs, “It was good.” </p><p>“Good?” </p><p>“Sufficient.” </p><p>“<em>Sufficient</em>?” </p><p>He grins, baring his teeth, his handsome face brightening. “There’s always room to improve,” he explains. </p><p>I let out a huffed laugh right as he pulls up on the curb outside my house. I twist in my seat to face him and he copies my actions, still smiling. “Tell me how to improve then,” I say cheekily. </p><p>He lifts his head slightly, eyes shifting down to my lips deliberately. He says, “Kiss me, then,” and I do. He melts against me. He tugs at the hairs on the back of my head. He lets out a small sound against my lips when I kiss him in a particular way. </p><p>“How was that?” I mumble against his lips, teeth nipping lightly at his bottom lip. His eyelashes are fluttering prettily. </p><p>He hums, the sound vibrating against my mouth, “Better.” He pulls away, running his fingers through my hair before placing both hands on the steering wheel. “Get out of my car now,” he says with a teasing smile on his lips. </p><p>“If you say so.” I open the door, grabbing my bag and hopping out. I lean down just before I close the passenger side door, flashing Baz a grin and saying, “Have a good night, Baz.” </p><p>He rolls his eyes, mumbling, “Bye,” and pushing his foot onto the gas. </p><p>The smile cannot be wiped off my face. I’m buzzing with happiness, feeling an air of excitement about seeing Baz again tomorrow. Things are going well. The play. My school work. My feelings for Baz. Everything is in control. </p><p>Except it’s not. </p><p>Penny is stood at the end of my driveway, her arms crossed over her front and an expression of fury and hurt displayed across her face. She’s seething by the time I call out her name, a mixture of guilt and dread catching up to me and foaming in the pit of my stomach. </p><p>She doesn’t answer me though. She doesn’t say anything. She turns on her heel and storms off, back in the direction of her house. </p><p>-</p><p>
  <strong>[To: Penny]</strong><br/>
<em>
    <strong>Can you call me? </strong>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>[To: Penny]</strong><br/>
<em>
    <strong>Penny. Please. I want to explain.</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>[To: Penny]</strong><br/>
<em>
    <strong>I’m so sorry. Please don’t be mad at me. Let’s talk about this. </strong>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>[To: Penny]</strong><br/>
<em>
    <strong>I know I’ve been a bad friend. I can explain everything. </strong>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>[To: Penny]</strong><br/>
<em>
    <strong>Pen????</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>-</p><p>Penny doesn’t speak to me the next day at school. She doesn’t even glance in my direction or make any indication that she’s noticed my presence. </p><p>Agatha notices the tension at lunch when Penny and I are sat on different sides of the room, avoiding looking at one another. When she asks me what’s happened, I give her a half-hearted answer about things being ‘complicated’. Agatha looks like she wants more information but luckily lets it slide. </p><p>Baz sits next to me in psychology class. I’m completely silent up until the moment our teacher gives us work to do in pairs. Then, when the other students in our class are starting to talk, their voices filling the silence in the room, I unload onto Baz: </p><p>“Penny saw us kiss when you dropped me off at home yesterday,” I whisper, so quietly that he has to read my lips as I talk. </p><p>When the words are out there, his jaw clenches and he asks, “What did she say?” </p><p>“Nothing. She won’t speak to me.” </p><p>Baz gulps, and I can see the thoughts unravelling in his mind like clockwork. I don’t know what I was expecting. Anger, maybe, at making such a stupid mistake. Regret, probably, and Baz concluding we will never, ever do it again. Neither of these things happen. He just looks thoughtful, and calmly asks, “Will she tell anyone?” </p><p>I shake my head, “I don’t think so. I mean, she’s my best friend. I don’t think she would do that to me.” </p><p>He grunts in agreement. “Good,” Baz says. </p><p>“What do I do?” </p><p>Part of me expects Baz to shrug and say, ‘I don’t care what you do’, but instead he looks almost sympathetic. “Just give her some time to cool off. Then you can explain what happened and why you couldn’t tell her.” </p><p>I nod, “Okay. Good idea.” Baz glances back down at the worksheet in front of him. I can’t help but ask, “You don’t mind her knowing?” </p><p>He doesn’t look at me when he mutters, “No. I don’t mind.” </p><p>At rehearsals, Penny pointedly sits away from us, leaving me to awkwardly linger around Baz’s group. When Agatha, Dev and Niall aren’t paying attention, Baz takes the opportunity to reach over and squeeze my hand. </p><p>I try to send him a grateful smile, but my gaze gravitates across the hall and finds Penny’s troubled expression staring right back. </p><p>I form a new plan: <em>Get my best friend back, deal with my suffocating feelings for Baz, don’t mess up the play. </em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>couldn't miss an opportunity to quote Romeo &amp; Juliet. </p><p>i'm sorry if this was awful. leave kudos xx</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Fire meets Ice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Simon tries to make amends with Penny. He is reluctant to confront his feelings, but good things don't last forever.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hello! back with another update. prepare for some serious teenage angst. </p><p>i'm not sure when i'm next going to be able to update. but i'm very determined to finish this soon. </p><p>i have one chapter left after this and that would conclude the story. but i also have plans for an epilogue just to tie everything up. so technically there will end up being 10 parts :) </p><p>okay! let me know your thoughts on the update.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>[From: Agatha Wellbelove]</strong><br/>
<em>
    <strong>Hey Siiiimon!!! I hope u haven’t forgotten that we’re going bowling after rehearsals today xxx </strong>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
Baz squeezes both of my shoulders, panting heavily from his position against the sinks. He inclines his head, arching his back to mouth at my neck and whisper, “What is it?” </p><p>Sliding my phone back into my jean pocket, I let out a sigh that turns breathier when Baz kisses a particular spot. “We agreed to go bowling tonight.” </p><p>Baz stills, sitting back against the sinks but still holding my shoulders for support, “‘We’ as in . . .?” </p><p>“Me, Penny and Shep, and your group.” I gaze at his flushed cheeks. Sat atop the sinks, he’s the same height as me. “You were there when Agatha organised it.” </p><p>He huffs, “I just agree to everything Wellbelove suggests. It’s easier that way.” He purses his lips thoughtfully, “Do you think Bunce will go?” </p><p>“Maybe, but she hasn’t acknowledged me for the last forty-eight hours,” I say. Baz runs his hands over my shoulders and back again, curling his arms around my neck, threading his fingers through my hair. </p><p>“When does third period finish?” He asks quietly. </p><p>“Ten minutes, maybe.” </p><p>He hums, “Do you want me to try and make you forget about the terribly awkward evening we’re going to have?” </p><p>I nod, “That would be nice.” </p><p>He bites his lip, supressing a grin. His long legs wrap neatly around my waist, pulling me further towards the sinks as he tilts his head up, intentionally gazing at my mouth. “Kiss me, then. We’ve only got ten minutes.” </p><p>I huff out a laugh. My hand reaches up to caress the side of his face affectionately, leaning forward and closing the gap between us. He gives as good as he gets. True to his word, Baz tugs on my hair and kisses me hard, effectively making me forget what’s waiting for me on the other side of the bathroom door. </p><p>-</p><p>Agatha is linking her arm through mine the second rehearsals are over. She beams up at me, steering me down from the stage and towards our bags, where Dev, Niall and Baz are already waiting. </p><p>“Oh, this is so exciting! We never hang out outside of school,” Agatha practically squeals, expertly picking up her bag and handing me my own without disturbing our linked arms. </p><p>Dev turns to Agatha, “What’s happening then? How are we getting there?” </p><p>Baz asks, “Are Bunce and her boyfriend coming?” </p><p>“Yes, they’re meeting us there. There’s five of us so I guess . . .” She smiles sweetly at Baz, flashing her pearly whites, “Would you be the bestest friend ever and give us a lift there?” </p><p>Baz rolls his eyes, “If I have to.”</p><p>The whole distance from the hall to the school carpark, I wonder whether Penny agreeing to come bowling means that she has forgiven me. Or whether it means she’s using this opportunity to stand up and announce mine and Baz’s secret to all our friends. </p><p>When we reach Baz’s car, I make the mistake of instinctively reaching for the passenger seat door. Baz sends me a look through the window and when I glance up at the other three, they’re staring dubiously at me. </p><p>“Shotgun?” I say dumbly. </p><p>“Nice try,” Niall says as Dev, beside him, barks out a laugh. “Agatha sits in the front seat.” </p><p>“Oh, does she?” I ask, resisting the impulse to look at Baz. “My bad, then.” </p><p>Agatha just smiles, standing beside me and opening the passenger seat door. She slips into the car, settling comfortably in her seat, which I’ve sat in countless times these past few weeks. </p><p>I end up on the other side of the car sat behind Baz. Niall squeezes himself uncomfortably between me and Dev, complaining insistently about the lack of leg space. Agatha switches radio stations throughout the drive, stopping and singing every time there’s a song she recognises. Baz glances at me once in the rear-view mirror, sees me wince at Agatha’s off-pitch singing and doesn’t try to catch my eye again. </p><p>Shep and Penny are waiting at the bar when we get inside the building. The combination of Agatha and Niall together makes a very loud and rowdy pair, drawing the attention of a lot of people in the bowling alley. </p><p>As we approach them, Shep looks over with his big goofy grin. Penny, a few seconds later, glances at us, her face expressionless apart from the tight-lipped smile. Agatha pulls Penny into a side-hug, excitedly talking about how she hasn’t been bowling in so long. </p><p>Penny doesn’t look at me. And Shep, who is probably on orders from Penny, sends me an awkwardly sympathetic look. My guess is he doesn’t know <em>why</em> I’m in Penny’s bad books, but I just am. </p><p>It turns out that our group sucks at bowling. Baz is good, but Baz is good at everything so that isn’t exactly a surprise. And Shep, very surprisingly, manages to get a strike almost every time. Penny and Agatha cheer both the boys on from the side-lines.</p><p>Dev, Niall and I are sore excuses at bowling. Niall somehow keeps throwing the ball into the gutter, Dev switches between getting a lot of spares and getting nothing at all and I’m just terrible.</p><p>“Nice one, Snow,” Baz says sarcastically from his seat as I’m walking back from knocking down precisely four pins. I narrow my eyes at him, leaning down to pick up my next ball. </p><p>Just as I’m about to retort, I hear someone scoff from behind me. Penny, sat on the opposite side with Shep curled up beside her, looks positively infuriated. She still won’t look at me though. </p><p>After the next round, I stand up and announce I’m going to get drinks for everyone. I lean my elbows on the bar and let out a heavy sigh I’ve been holding in. The barman glances uncertainly at me but doesn’t say anything. </p><p>I feel a hand on the small of my back. It’s there and gone just as quickly. Baz settles onto the stool beside me and says softly, “Hey.” </p><p>“Hey.” I feel a little deflated, but I somehow still find it in me to joke: “Do my bowling skills make you more attracted to me?” </p><p>He rolls his eyes, the hint of a smile appearing, “Didn’t I tell you? Boys who can’t hit more than five pins with a bowling ball are my weakness.” </p><p>I chuckle, free and happy, twisting in my seat and catching Penny’s eye over in the bowling alley. The smile drops from my face at Penny’s scrutinising stare. She only looks away when Shep places a hand on her shoulder and steals her attention from me. </p><p>“She really hates us,” Baz says, turning his stool as well. His knees bump mine. “Sorry, I wish I knew how to help.” </p><p>“You <em>are</em> helping,” I say quietly. </p><p>He deliberately knocks our knees together again, urging me to look at him. If we were alone, he might caress my cheek or tilt my chin up. The seriously tragic difference between the two of us now and the two of us behind closed doors has never felt so . . . blatant. It’s painfully restricting. I want Baz to reach out and be publicly affectionate with me. I want him to hold my hand and kiss my cheek and run his fingers through my hair and – </p><p>I want him. I want Baz. I want Baz to be my handsome boyfriend. I want to be his stupid one. </p><p>“She keeps looking at me like she’s considering hurling the bowling ball at my face instead,” Baz says, still looking over at our group of friends. </p><p>I grin, “She can’t ruin your best asset.” </p><p>He turns to me, eyebrows raised incredulously, “You think my face is my best asset?” </p><p>No. Everything is proportionately perfect. Not that I’m going to tell him that. I press my lips together thoughtfully, “Well it’s certainly not your bubbly and friendly personality.” </p><p>“I’ll have you know a lot of people like that I don’t pretend to be ‘bubbly and friendly’. I’m honest.” </p><p>“Honest? Like how you pretended to hate me since year 7 when really you wanted to kiss me.” </p><p>“I think you’re getting confused.” He clears his throat, “I do hate you, but I don’t hate kissing you.” </p><p>I can’t supress my smile then. He glances at it, trying to refrain from twisting his own mouth up into a smile. </p><p><em>There’s something here,</em> I want to say.<em> There’s something more between us. </em></p><p> Instead I say, “I’m going to talk to Penny. I’ll go to her house or something, so she can’t run away.” </p><p>“Okay,” Baz nods. “Tomorrow?” </p><p>I glance over at Penny. She looks incredibly irritated by whatever Niall is telling her. “No, today.” </p><p>“I can drop you there after bowling,” Baz offers. <br/>
 <br/>
“Thank you.” My eyes flicker from his hands on his lap, which I want to hold, to his shadowy grey eyes. There’s a slight twitch in his jaw. </p><p>He twists back to face the bar, knees knocking mine again, and puts his arms on the counter. “Snow, have you even ordered the drinks?” </p><p>I sigh, “I knew I was forgetting something.” </p><p>-</p><p>When the bowling trip draws to an end, Shep thanks everyone for a good time, and him and a silent Penny exit the building first. Neither of them looks back. Baz takes the rest of us back to his car, cleverly taking a different route home from the bowling alley so that he can drop Agatha, Dev and Niall off at their houses first without anything seeming suspicious. </p><p>When Agatha – the third person to be dropped home – jumps out, a big smile still on her face as she unlocks her front door, Baz rests his hand on the passenger seat headrest and twists to look at me. He raises his eyebrows, “Are you going to carry on sitting there like this is a taxi service?” </p><p>“Oh,” I feign surprise, placing my hand over my chest, “I didn’t realise I was allowed to sit in <em>Agatha’s</em> seat.” </p><p>Baz scoffs, turning back to face the front, tapping his hand on the steering wheel impatiently. I climb out and back in within seconds; Baz starts up the car the moment my seatbelt clicks into place, asking for Penny’s address. </p><p>“Do you want me to pick you up after?” Baz asks. </p><p>“Uh, no, it’s okay. I can walk,” I assure him. He nods once, eyes trained on the road. “So, um, what are you doing for Christmas break?” </p><p>Baz glances at me uncertainly, but I’m hardly surprised. I’m talking to him as if I don’t really know him. But I want to know where he will be when we’re away from school for over two weeks. Is he going to be here? Can I see him? Do the rules still apply when school, and therefore the play, has taken a pause? </p><p>“We have a family house down by the beach. My father will probably take us there.” </p><p>“For the whole break?” </p><p>He shrugs one shoulder, “Maybe. I don’t know. Why?” </p><p>“Just making conversation,” I fib. He doesn’t question it, and when we pull up outside Penny’s house, he doesn’t make any move to kiss me. I gaze across the car at him, “Okay. See you tomorrow.” </p><p>“Let me know how it goes,” he says, which gives me permission to text or call him tonight without needing another excuse. He hesitates for a moment too long, “See you tomorrow.” </p><p>I lean across the two seats and let my lips brush airily over his cheek. The suggestion of a kiss. That’s all. It’s nothing, and it’s <em>so much</em>, all at the same time. </p><p>Because we’re crossing too many boundaries. How can we use the excuse of a ‘casual physical relationship’ when we’re kissing like that? When he lets me show affection in small doses, and when he blushes prettily like he is now, how can we hide behind the mask of ‘no feelings’? </p><p>There are feelings here. There’s no denying there is something between us. But I don’t think Baz is willing to admit that. And I’m not willing to hear him tell me I’m <em>wrong</em>. </p><p>Baz doesn’t immediately drive off. He waits until I’m lingering on Penny’s doorstop and frowning at the doorbell. He waits until I glance over my shoulder, looking through the dark windows of the car and wondering if he’s going to stay, until he starts the car up again and accelerates back down Penny’s road. </p><p>It's taking a lot of courage to knock on the door. I give myself a moment to take a few deep breaths and in that time, I glance across at her front window – the one offering a perfect view of her living room – and find Penny’s figure, slightly obscured by the curtain. My shoulders sag at the sight of her watching me. But she still looks angry. </p><p>She uncrosses her arms in favour of opening one side of the window and shouting, “What do you want?” </p><p>“To talk?” I offer. </p><p>“We don’t have anything to talk about.”</p><p>“If that was true, we wouldn’t have just spent the last two days ignoring each other.”</p><p>She frowns, hesitating for a second before slamming the window closed. When she walks out of sight, I half-expect her not to return. But she swings open the front door a moment later, stiff and unmoving in the doorway. </p><p>“Talk then,” she says. </p><p>I sigh, “Penny.” Her expression is stony. “I’m<em> sorry.</em> I really am.”</p><p>“How long has this been going on?” </p><p>I scramble for the timeline of events in my head, gesturing with my hands, “After Halloween. It was – complicated, in the beginning.” </p><p>“This has been going on for <em>weeks.</em>” </p><p>“I’m sorry, Penny. I never meant to hurt you.”</p><p>“Do you even know why you’re sorry?” </p><p>“<em>Yes</em>. For not telling you,” I say determinedly. “But Baz didn’t want anybody to know. We came to some sort of agreement about it. I <em>wanted</em> to tell you, but I couldn’t.” </p><p>She furrows her eyebrows, leaning against the door, “Why does he want to keep your relationship secret?” </p><p>“<em>Relationship</em>?” I repeat, eyes wide. “It’s, uh – we’re not in a relationship.” </p><p>“Simon,” Penny looks at me in bewilderment, like she really thinks I’m lying right to her face. “I literally saw you two kissing.” </p><p>“I know what you saw but it’s not –” I pause, steadying myself by taking a deep breath. “That’s all it is. Baz and me. He drives me home after rehearsals and we kiss. That’s all he wants it to be.” </p><p>She still looks unconvinced. “I’m not an idiot. I noticed something was up before I even saw you kissing. The way you act around each other now . . .” </p><p>“I know,” I scratch the back of my head awkwardly. “I, um, I like him. I like him so much. I don’t know if he feels the same but it’s – um, really overwhelming. I’ve never felt like this before.” </p><p>Penny searches my face, looking for a hint of deception, I guess, and slowly, a small and sympathetic smile starts to curl onto her mouth. She reaches a hand onto to my shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. All this time I needed Penny’s comfort, and finally she knows, and finally I have it. </p><p>“Oh, Simon,” she says kindly. “When did you realise?” </p><p>I wrinkle up my nose, trying to pinpoint a time when it really hit me. Was it the day when Baz drove us to a cricket field, where I admitted I liked kissing him (just to watch the pink flush to his cheeks)? Was it watching Baz kiss Finn and realising I <em>never</em> want to see him with somebody else? Was it onstage, Romeo and I shaping ourselves into two stupid boys with the same beating heart, falling in love to the sound of a parallel romance? </p><p>The truth is that I don’t know when it happened. But I know that now, seeing him, being with him, kissing him, sucker-punches my heart every time. I know that I can’t go back to how it was before. </p><p>But I also know, when reality hits like a stiff brick wall between the two of us, that I might have to. </p><p>“I don’t know, Pen,” I say, the truth falling from my lips. “Probably straight away. Probably from the first time we kissed.” </p><p>Penny frowns, “You’ve been keeping this to yourself all this time.” </p><p>“I wanted to tell you,” I repeat, needing her to believe me. </p><p>She tugs my shoulders forward, edging me closer into a hug. It’s one of her best hugs. She holds me comfortingly and runs her hand down my back. “Tell me about it now,” she murmurs. I pull away to look her in the eyes and she emphasises, “Tell me about Baz and these past few weeks.” Her eyes narrow slightly, “And don’t keep things from me again.” </p><p>I hold up my hands in surrender, “Never again.” She grins, reaching down for my hand and tugging me into the house. </p><p>-</p><p>Rehearsals for the remainder of the week leave me feeling restless and agitated. Things are starting to come together. Miss Possibelf has worked her magic on the play, painting the perfect portrait and orchestrating it to a T. And yet, with opening night looming over us, Christmas break driving a wedge between the cast, I can’t help but feel intimidated. </p><p>Above all, I have my best friend back. Penny is by my side every day, sending me reassuring smiles across the stage or texting me to check in. And the group is back to how it was. The seven of us sitting together as if we’ve been friends our whole lives, as if there was no momentary stumbling block. </p><p>As usual, being with Baz seems to cure everything. On Friday when I left rehearsals feeling tense and on edge, he talked to me about it, letting me vent about my fears for the play. And he ran his fingers through my hair until the tension just . . . eased away. Then he kissed me until a whole new sensation washed over me. </p><p>That Friday, Ebb noticed Baz’s car parked just down the road and texted asking if Baz wanted to stay over. “We’re making pizzas,” I explained, glancing down at the array of pizza emojis Ebb had sent. </p><p>Baz had grinned. A real, jaw-dropping kind of grin. And he’d jumped out of the car, leading me up the driveway of my own house. </p><p>We had made pizzas. Baz’s mostly had veggies; a mixed palette of colours covering the cheese base. Then we ate them on the living room floor, Baz’s feet hitting mine every once in a while. I devoured my pizza the fastest, dipping the crusts into a garlic dip Ebb brought from the supermarket. When Ebb left the room with our plates, Baz said he wouldn’t be kissing me tonight – not with the garlic-y breath I’d given myself. </p><p>His plans changed once we were upstairs alone. I’d pressed him down onto the mattress and planted kisses down the side of his neck, relishing in the little gasps of breath coming from his mouth. </p><p>And in the morning when Baz left, Ebb had turned from where she was washing plates at the sink to give me a rather knowing look. But I haven’t managed to decipher that quite yet. </p><p>Monday’s rehearsal goes well, if the giddy smile Baz gives me from across the stage is anything to go by. No longer needing any scripts and wearing our costumes, the play is looking pretty polished. Baz’s face lights up in the yellow-y glint of lighting Shep has casted on the stage, and then the scene is over, and our characters drop. </p><p>“Okay, that’s all for today! Really great rehearsal,” Miss Possibelf announces. “I’m thoroughly impressed.” </p><p>I follow everyone off the stage and into the audience where our bags and coats are being kept. As I’m retrieving my bag from where it’s caught on a chair leg, I notice somebody hovering awkwardly beside me. Straightening and slinging my bag over my shoulder, Max smiles down at me. </p><p>“Oh, hey Max,” I say. </p><p>“Hey.” I haven’t spoken to him in a while, but it’s certainly safe to say there’s no tension between us anymore. In fact, I feel a comfortable sort of lull when we talk – like he’s an old friend. At least, that’s the energy I was going for. “You’re doing so well at the moment playing Romeo.”</p><p>“Oh, thanks. I appreciate it,” I smile gratefully. </p><p>“Must be nerve-wracking being up there,” he nods to the stage. </p><p>“Just a bit.” </p><p>He lets out sigh of laughter before clearing his throat and explaining, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you actually, Simon.” </p><p>I furrow my eyebrows, “What’s up?”</p><p>“Well,” he says, blushing immediately. There’s mere seconds between his pale face turning a violent red. “I know things have been awkward between us, after what happened at that party and so on. But I’m pretty certain now of what I want. Do you see what I mean?” </p><p>I don’t. I’m lost. I don’t know if he can tell, but I’m not following one bit. Regardless, I nod my head dumbly and wait for him to expand. When he sees my nod, he smiles slightly, looking somewhat relieved. </p><p>“So, do you want to go out some time?” </p><p>My eyes widen. It takes an inhuman effort to stop myself from looking any more shocked than I already do. The silence lasts for a few beats too long, my mind unravelling into a path before me. </p><p>Because Max is a nice guy. He’s nice and attractive and now I know he’s interested. But it’s not exactly easy to focus on Max’s good traits when I’m too busy getting tongue-tied with another boy who might not even like me back. But it’s <em>Baz</em>. Baz Pitch, who I would probably let stomp all over my heart if he wanted to. </p><p>Okay. I’m pathetic. I know I am. But I can’t help it.</p><p>“I didn’t know you felt that way,” I say stupidly. Max’s smile drops in favour of pressing his lips together. </p><p>“Well, now you do,” he says, looking like he’s trying not to cringe. </p><p>“I – um, can I get back to you about it?” I say. <em>Stupid, stupid, stupid.</em> </p><p>He nods immediately, apparently pretty satisfied with the answer. “That’s fine,” he says “You can message me or, you know, just let me know. Anyway, yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.” </p><p>Even when he’s walked away, grabbed his bag and left the hall, my feet are still frozen to the spot. It isn’t until the sound of somebody zipping up their bag brings me back to reality, and I’m twisting to face Baz. <em>Baz</em>, who has been this close the entire time. Baz, who must’ve heard everything. </p><p>He doesn’t spare me a glance before walking out of the hall too. </p><p>Part of me wonders whether his car will still be there when I finally reach the carpark. It’s one of the only cars left, but it’s there, with Baz stood outside leaning against the driver seat door. He glances up as I approach. </p><p>“Hey,” I say. He doesn’t respond, so I press, “How was your day?” </p><p>“Fine,” he says. I think of his soft smile when he was onstage, barely fifteen minutes ago. I want to see it again now. But this Baz is frustrated, anger spiking at the edges of his mood. </p><p>“Do you want me to walk home?” I ask. </p><p>“Did I say that?” </p><p>“What’s wrong?” </p><p>He narrows his eyes, “Nothing.” Then, the penny drops: “You and Max though, huh? You two would make a good couple.” </p><p>I know he overheard, and yet the icy edge to his voice makes me freeze on the spot. </p><p>“Seriously, very cute,” he says. </p><p>“Stop it.” </p><p>“Why?” </p><p>I take a step closer towards him. Cautious, like approaching an animal of prey, wondering if he’ll bare his teeth or let me live. “This is ridiculous,” I say, trying to make my voice light. </p><p>“Is it?” He raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. </p><p>Irritation prickling in my veins, I tell him, “If you were listening, you must’ve heard my answer.” </p><p>He hums, “I heard you say you needed to think about it.” </p><p>“Yes,” I press. “So that I could talk to <em>you</em>.” </p><p>“Oh, Snow,” he says, mocking and mean, placing a hand on his heart. “Do you need my permission now?” </p><p>“No, I just didn’t want to upset you.” </p><p>He scoffs, “Go on the stupid date if you want to.” </p><p>“I don’t want to.” </p><p>His eyes, like his voice, are like ice. The grey swirl twisting into something paler and frosty. </p><p>A fire of aggravation, something that’s been lighting up for a while now, flares inside of me. So I ask, “Why are you pissed off anyway?” </p><p>He gulps. The fire causing the ice to melt, and Baz is left in a pool of overfilling water, with no way out but to admit – “You know why.” </p><p>I do. It’s the same reason why I can’t think of anyone else but him. My heart starts to beat to a new song, drumming in impatience. “Say it.” </p><p>He opens his mouth and closes it again. For a moment, I can see the words start to form, lining up in perfect order, replicated in my own mind. But he shakes his head, refusing to voice them out loud. </p><p>“Baz,” I say softly, taking another step forward. He puts his hand, palm-up, in the middle of our bodies, like a wedge between us. </p><p>“Just get in the car,” he says. “I’ll take you home.” </p><p>But I can’t. I can’t sit in his car and pretend I’m fine with this thing going on between us anymore. </p><p>Because the undeniable truth is that I want Baz. I want it all. I want his proud smiles on the stage and in his element. I want his terrible morning moods, with tired eyes and bed hair. I want his happiness to be my own too. </p><p>And somewhere, somewhere where he isn’t yet willing to admit, I think he wants it too. </p><p>So until then – </p><p>“No, I can’t.” </p><p>“What do you mean you ‘can’t’?” </p><p>“I’m going to walk home,” I say, standing my ground. I let out an exasperated sigh and tell him, “I <em>know</em> what I want, Baz. Do you?” </p><p>He doesn’t answer. But it doesn’t matter, because I turn on my heel and walk calmly away, heading home. </p><p>-</p><p>The next day is the last before the Christmas holidays. Penny can tell something is up with me. She frowns when she sees the look on my face. </p><p>It’s as though, since telling her the truth, Penny has become really clued up on all of my feelings. She asks, “What happened, Simon?” </p><p>So I tell her. The plug comes undone and it all pours out; she listens, nodding and sighing in certain places, and then she reaches up to put an arm around my shoulders. “He’s an idiot, Simon.” </p><p>“I know,” I huff. “But I like him so much.” </p><p>“What are you going to do?” </p><p>I shrug. That’s the question. </p><p>-</p><p>Rehearsals end on a sour note. Baz hasn’t spared me a glance offstage. And in the character of Joseph, there’s something off about him. He’s stiff and tense and not at all like he was the day before. Miss Possibelf notices the change, but barely remarks on it. </p><p>Agatha clambers onto a chair at the end of rehearsals to announce she’s having a New Year’s party. Baz offers out a hand to help her climb down. I try to catch his eye only for a moment before giving up and grabbing my bag. </p><p>Max approaches me casually, touching his hair like it’s a nervous impulse. He says, “Hey, are you going to the party?” </p><p>I offer him a half-hearted shrug, “Maybe. I’m not sure yet.” </p><p>“Agatha throws the best parties,” he says conversationally. </p><p>I glance to the side. Agatha, Dev, Niall and Baz are still there. They’re chatting, immersed in conversation, but Baz is silent. I can tell by the tight set of his shoulders that he’s trying to listen in. “Max, I should probably tell you,” I start. “You’re a really lovely guy, but I don’t think it would be right for me to go out with you.” </p><p>“Oh,” Max starts to frown, chewing on his lip. “That’s okay. I mean, I wish we could but – can I ask why?” </p><p>“I have feelings for somebody else,” I say, my voice clear and void of hesitation. To one side, Baz’s eyes drop closed for a second.</p><p>“Oh,” Max says again. He shrugs one shoulder, “That’s – thanks for being honest. I’ll see you around?” </p><p>“Yeah,” I gulp. “See you.”</p><p>I turn back to my friends. Baz looks up at the sound of Max's footsteps walking away. His grey eyes hold my gaze for a moment. <em>It’s you</em>, I try to tell him. </p><p>But he must already know. It’s been written over my face this whole time. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>leave kudos &amp; comments if you're enjoying this fic xx</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>follow me on tumblr: @mountchristen</p></blockquote></div></div>
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